Endure and Survive
by Desperatembrace
Summary: When Grimmjow is on his way home from overtime at work, he never expects to pick up a bloodied, half-naked, orange haired man off the side of the street. Nor did he expect to fall in love with him. It's funny how life works that way. Grimmichi, AU, Yaoi
1. Prologue

Started and completed on March 10th, 2009.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s): **I do not own Bleach. If I did, Ichigo would have an obsessive stalker-girl that somehow and coincidentally has the exact same name as me.

I do not own Porsche, nor do I own a Porsche Boxster. Although I really, really, really, want one.

**Warning:**

Violence

Alternate Universe

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**-Prologue-**

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The smell of gasoline and tar permeated the air, filling his nose. He heard cars off in the distance, somewhere behind all of the towering buildings surrounding him. The street was dark, only an occasional dim lamppost casting its dim yellow glow appeared at each street corner. He could barely register everything around him, only able to hear the pounding of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears.

He was running, forcing one foot in front of the other, his bare feet slapping the pavement of the sidewalk.

Left foot, right foot.

He stepped onto the untidy, littered street, crossing it quickly as he passed into an alleyway. He slowed down, his breathing erratic.

Left foot.

Right foot.

Run.

He gave a breathy cry as he forced his limbs past their limits, running once more.

His thoughts were muddied and hazy. He could barely even remember why he was running in the first place-could barely remember why fear was tearing at his every limb, demanding him to flee far, far away. He came out of the alley onto yet another deserted street.

Run.

He could hazily remember being chased by people clothed in white but the rest was just a blur. A blur of blood and glinting metal. The thought spurred him to increase his speed.

Run, run, run.

He glanced down momentarily as he vaguely became aware of a sharp pain that had been shooting up from his feet ever since he had crossed the last street. He shook it off quickly.

No time to waste.

_Run._

He ran down the dark, quiet street, mentally begging his legs to keep going, desperately hoping he could last long enough to make a getaway.

He ran along the sidewalk, his vision blurring in and out of focus. He collapsed with a cry when a large shock of pain shot through both of his legs simultaneously, climbing up his back and attacking his brain in a hectic fervor. He glanced at the baseball cap that had fallen off his head, a violent crimson spot staining the delicate blue fabric.

He reached his lightly tanned hand out to grab it on instinct, his arm freezing when his ears picked up the sounds of fast-paced footsteps closing in behind him.

**Run.**

He sucked in a labored breath and forced himself to his feet, stumbling into a run.

He darted into another alleyway, running desperately to the brighter end. The further he got in the alley, the louder the sounds of honking and revving engines and crunching of tires to road grew. He only dimly registered these at the back of his mind.

The only thing he could see was the light at the end of the cramped space between two buildings.

The only thing he could hear was the pounding of his heart, the rushing of his blood...

And the hurried footsteps of those that were chasing him close behind.

As he came closer to the end, the sounds died away. The sounds of cars faded away, the street having had its momentary traffic for the night. The only sounds left were of him and his pursuers.

He burst through the opening out of the darkness and into the light, darting into the street. He vaguely registered the quiet click behind him.

Spinning around, his eyes caught a flash of silver held in the hands of a man clothed from head to toe in white. He sucked in a breath, his heartbeat pounding painfully and loudly in his chest. The man holding the small semi-automatic pistol widened his eyes in surprise at the precise moment that a loud honking cut through all sounds down the street.

The young man in the middle of the street snapped his head to the side, his fear-filled brown eyes dilating as they met the bright headlights of an 18-wheeler truck speeding his way. The driver was trying his best to stop, the screeching of the brakes ripping through the nearly silent street. He stepped away from the man in white, away from the truck, toward the opposite side of the street.

It was too late.

He felt a tremendous force send him flying to the sidewalk, his head slamming on the pavement. He vaguely registered the screeching of the brakes shifting to a revving engine, the rubber of the abused tires being left behind as the driver sped away, undoubtedly panicking.

He could barely think or hear or use any of his senses. His mind was able to piece together one piercing, almost-clear thought.

_Is he gone? Is it over?_

He slowly tilted his profusely-bleeding head in the direction of the alleyway, catching sight of the white of a retreating back.

A smile slowly overtook his face, no longer able to keep his consciousness as the last thing he saw was the color of electric blue.

One last thought reverberated through his mind.

_Finally. It's over._

Everything went black.

* * *

He sucked in a deep breath, the taste of tobacco covering his tongue and the tainted smoke filling his lungs. He glanced at the computer screen, tapping at the arrow keys on the keyboard to scroll down.

Pulling the cigarette away from his mouth, he exhaled, swirling gray smoke ascending above him. He stared at the screen for a few seconds more before deciding that he liked the design. The blue haired man leaned forward and smashed the cigarette butt into the black ashtray, leaving it amongst a few others.

After a few clicks of the computer mouse, the computer was logging off and shutting down. He pushed himself back and rose out of the comfortable office chair, stretching his arms high above his body and giving a low, deep yawn.

Grabbing his keys and jacket off of the door-side table, he stepped out of his office, locking the door behind himself.

One of the two women sitting at the desk smiled in his direction and gave him a kind 'goodnight' along with a small nod. He waved a hand over his shoulder lazily, giving his thanks and a goodnight of his own.

Everyone knew that he didn't like to talk much.

It was just the way that Grimmjow was.

He pressed the down button next to the elevator doors, the ding of the elevator almost automatically responding as the shiny silver doors slid open to reveal an empty elevator.

Stepping inside quickly, Grimmjow pressed the button for ground level, a sigh escaping his lips as the doors slipped shut. He pulled his tie to loosen it up a bit whilst gazing at his reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

Anyone could tell that he was tired, light bags visible underneath his electric blue eyes, his matching hair wilted slightly.

Grimmjow gave another sigh, shoving his keys into his pocket as he shrugged his jacket on. He pinched the bridge of his nose, waiting for the elevator to arrive at his desired floor. Finally, a small jolt of the elevator and quiet ding notified him of his arrival. He opened his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets as the doors slid open and he stepped into the main lobby.

The man proceeded out the large glass doors, heading to the employee's parking lot. He walked quickly to his car, eager to get out of the nippy cold of the air.

He stepped up to his navy-blue Porsche Boxster, pulling the keys out of his pocket and unlocking the driver's side door, sliding inside and slamming the door shut. Eager to get home, the car was started in a quick and orderly fashion as he backed out of his reserved parking spot. The car smoothly pulled to the parking lot exit, momentarily pausing before pulling out and driving down the road in the dark, late-night hours of the February night.

Grimmjow sometimes hated his job and regretted ever accepting it. It was on the opposite side of town from his penthouse apartment room and it required him to drive across town.

If there was one thing that absolutely every resident in Las Noches knew, it was the fact that the middle of the city was the worst. The outer edges were fine--they had upscale housing and businesses and had worthy, good people.

The middle of the city, however, was home to rundown apartments, crooks, shady dealerships and stores along with bars and many other disquieting things. The streets were littered with broken glass and trash. Drunken men stumbled along the sidewalks on their way home from the bar. Gangs claimed the streets, fighting over who had staked their claims on which area first. The things that happened in this part of the city were a hush-hush topic. There was such a large amount of crime in the area that cops had just given up on it.

Not to mention if anybody tried to rat a crook from this part of the city out, they would probably find themselves dead the next morning.

Anybody who drove through the middle of the city was either a fool or had ridiculously bad luck.

Grimmjow was one of the latter, forced to drive through the area twice a day every single time he had to work.

Grimmjow wasn't scared--no, of course not. He wouldn't freak out if he ended up getting in a fight with some big shot in the area or had a knife pulled on him. He knew how to fight and how to hold his own--he wasn't afraid.

He just sincerely preferred to keep the chances of being held at gunpoint for a car-hijacking to be significantly low. He wanted to keep his beautiful car, thank you.

Not to mention it would be a pain in the ass if he happened to witness something by mistake and then have someone try to keep him quiet by killing him.

He didn't like the idea of potential stalkers. Just a major pain in the ass that he really would rather not deal with.

He turned on the radio, the quiet strumming of an acoustic guitar resounding throughout the small car. Fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel, keeping to the beat.

He turned on to a deserted road, frowning when he heard the loud honking of a large truck-either a 16 or 18-wheeler. On the intersecting road up ahead, he saw a scene that nearly made him freeze, his stomach doing horrible flops in his abdomen.

A young orange-haired man, covered in blood and half-naked, stepped back slowly out of the street as an 18-wheeler truck hurtled toward him, desperately trying to brake. His reaction was too slow. The truck slammed into the left side of the kid's body (quite possibly just his arm), sending him flying backwards and the kid's head smacking into the pavement.

Grimmjow slammed on his brakes, the sound of the low screech lost with the noise of the large truck speeding off. The blue-haired man yanked his seat-belt off, cranked the emergency brake in place and threw his car door open, running to where the orange-haired young man lay still, blood collecting all around his body. He let out a loud curse, eying the guy's form as he came closer. The boy's breathing was labored, but still there.

The bloodied boy slowly turned his head to the opposite side of the street, away from Grimmjow, as the blue-haired man approached. When Grimmjow hurriedly went around the limp body, he noticed a small smile stretch across the young man's features before he blacked out.

Grimmjow reached forward and clumsily felt for a pulse on the kid's neck. His heart was still beating quite loudly but was pulsing at was undoubtedly an unhealthy rate. He slid his hand under the boy's head and heaved his body up, careful not to touch any visible wounds. He hurried back to his car, throwing open the passenger door and shifting the body into one arm as he used the other to reach the open bag on the floorboard. He pulled out a spare towel that he used when he had to stay at work for the night.

The towel was awkwardly thrown around the orange-haired man's neck and tugged down over his back before he carefully placed him in the seat. He wrapped the towel all the way around the man's torso in an attempt to keep him warm and absorb some blood.

He snapped the seat belt over the limp body and slammed the car door shut, shuffling to the opposite side of the car.

He slipped into the car, slamming the door behind him and snapped his own seat belt on, gripping the steering wheel and quickly trying to decide where to go.

Opting to go to his own home that was only a few minutes away as opposed to a hospital halfway across town, he headed toward his penthouse. He knew somebody that lived nearby who was a highly-ranked doctor.

He pulled out his cell phone as he sped along, dialing a number and speaking quickly when someone answered. He told the person on the other end of the line to meet him at his house and to be prepared with a vast amount of medical supplies.

Grimmjow flipped his cell phone shut, sighing as he glanced over to the bloodied man beside him.

This night was turning out to be much longer than he expected.

**-Prologue End-**

A/N: Review?


	2. Doctor

Started March 11th.

Completed March 19th.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s): **I do not own Bleach. If I did, Grimmjow would have Ichigo bent over many different surfaces throughout the series. So, ha.

**Warning:**

Violence

Alternate Universe

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 1**

**"Doctor"**

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**

The apparent reality didn't really set in until Grimmjow had pulled up in front of the upscale apartment complex and leaned his neck forward at an awkward angle to see the windows of his penthouse apartment.

Never before had he thought of the amazing apartment being such a pain in the ass. He was starting to wish that he had taken up one of the openings on the lower floors.

It _would_, after all, make it a hell of a lot easier to transport a limp body into his apartment.

The blue-haired man sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to the bleeding man next to him. The guy was still unconscious, but now it looked as if he was having a nightmare, his head snapping to the side every so often with his brow furrowed in pain.

He turned the key, turning off his precious car and pulled his door open quickly, slamming it behind himself. He jogged to the other side of the car, yanking the car door open and pausing for moment.

_Now. How to do this...?_

Well, he had the right to ponder over it. After all, it wasn't every day you see someone carrying a limp, bloody, half-naked man into their apartment complex.

People would have questions.

He sighed again, deciding to throw all precaution out the window. If anyone decided to ask questions, he'd either answer them truthfully, or bribe them to keep quiet with money.

Either worked.

He leaned into the car, putting the keys in his mouth and biting down on the metal ring. He wrapped the towel a little more securely around the man, giving him protection from the cold air outside and covered most of his skin. Since the man was only wearing jeans (that were covered in holes and slashes) and the tattered remains of a shirt, he would easily become cold. The poor guy didn't need pneumonia or hypothermia added to his no-doubt already long medical list.

He scooted his arms underneath the man's neck and knees and hefted him up bridal style.

Grimmjow backed up a few steps, careful to keep the orange-haired man's head from bumping into anything.

He lightly put his foot on the lower corner of the car door and pushed it shut, nodding lightly to himself when he heard the door latch pleasantly.

He heaved the man up to put him in a slightly more comfortable position, biting down harder on the ring of keys between his teeth.

Grimmjow made his way to the front doors, suddenly grateful for the automatic doors at the front of the building.

He walked into the front room, glancing around. Looking at the desk next to the hall entrance, he spotted a young woman with short purple-black hair. She looked up and met his eyes, standing from her seat and made her way toward him.

"Oi, Grimmjow. You're about.." She glanced at the large red numbers of the digital clock on the wall. "20 minutes later than usual."

She glanced at the large bundle in his arms and raised an eyebrow. She looked back up at Grimmjow and shook her head, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not even going to ask."

She snatched the key ring out of his mouth and twirled it on her finger. "By the looks of things, I'm guessing you want someone to go park your car in the parking lot?" She asked rhetorically, her eyes darting to the bloodied man in his arms and back to Grimmjow's face.

Grimmjow gave a gruff nod and tilted his head, silently giving her his thanks. "Yeah, Cirucci."

"I'll drop these off at your place later." She indicated the keys as he nodded.

He turned and headed for the hallway, making his way to the elevator. He kept himself from twitching when he heard Cirucci mutter the words "damned blueberry" and "rape" as he walked away.

_Tch. Just fucking lovely._

The man threw his leg up, punching the 'Up' button next to the elevator with the tip of his shoe, startling the small man standing next to the elevator doors who had been patiently waiting for the elevator to arrive. Grimmjow gave a low snort and leaned most of his weight onto one foot, grumbling about elevators taking their time.

When the elevator finally dinged, the blue-haired man stepped in and raised his eyebrow questioningly at the small man previously mentioned. The man looked as if he was debating whether or not to get on the elevator, as if it were a life or death situation.

Grimmjow merely rolled his eyes and leaned to the button panel, pressing the button for his floor with his elbow. The doors slid shut, the image of the small man widening his eyes disappearing. Grimmjow shook his head.

_Damned dumb-asses._

He began tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the elevator to arrive at his floor (which was, quite literally, his floor-he had it all to himself) and glared at the small arrow above the doors of the elevator.

It was still only at the half-way mark, slowly inching its way to the opposite side. He needed it to go all the way over to the right. And it was _damn_ well taking its time.

Finally, the arrow landed on the little notch for his floor, the elevator stopping, giving that stomach-turning feeling it always gives as a quiet _ding_ sounded. The doors slid open, revealing a rather small but cozy hallway, with only a couple of doors.

Across from Grimmjow, a man was leaning next to an elegant door. Grimmjow stepped out of the elevator, clearly irritated. The man looked up from his spot, pulling away from his comfortable lean against the wall.

The man raised a questioning eyebrow at the rather large lump in Grimmjow's arms, irritating the blue-haired man further.

Why can't people just act like it's normal to carry a half-dead person into their home?

It sure would make things a hell of a lot less awkward.

The man in front of him swiped back his shoulder-length pink hair and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"Well, this certainly is interesting."

Grimmjow had to resist the urge to kick him.

_It might shake the orange-haired kid up too much_, he reminded himself.

"Shut it, Szayel. Just open the damned door and let's get inside. I don't have my keys on me right now."

Szayel just chuckled, amusement sparkling in his eyes. He turned around and pulled out his own ring of keys, sliding the spare key that Grimmjow had given him into the key slot and turned, unlocking the door.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open, collecting his medical supplies next to the door as the blue-haired man brushed past him.

There was a reason why Szayel hadn't just went ahead and gone into the apartment first.

When he received the spare key from Grimmjow, the blue-haired man had specified that it was to "only be used for emergency occasions. Any other times used will result in the unprofessional castration of the trespasser."

Szayel was no fool.

Grimmjow would hold clear to his threat. There was no doubt about that.

The pink haired man followed into the luxurious apartment and clicked the door shut behind him. He kicked his shoes off quickly and headed into the living room after the blue-haired man.

Grimmjow was about to put the man down on his couch when Szayel tapped his shoulder and cleared his throat.

"I wouldn't put him down yet. It would be rather hard to work on him when there's so much dried blood."

Grimmjow let out a tired sigh before hefting the orange-haired man up comfortably. He instead made his way into the bathroom, heading straight for the shower in the dark leaving the pink-haired man behind him to turn on the lights.

Szayel flipped the switch and light flooded the bathroom.

Everything was shiny. Each tile was finely polished, the silver of the sink and shower sparkling lavishly.

Grimmjow didn't much care.

He had a maid come in every once in a while to clean up his whole apartment. It wasn't like he had the time with all the overtime work he had.

Grimmjow gently lowered the yet unnamed man onto the floor of the shower before standing up and motioning for Szayel to get back.

He reached up and flipped a switch at the base of the shower head and pulled it from its fixed spot. He pointed the head to the drain, away from the injured man, and quickly turned the knobs, fixing the water to a comfortable temperature.

The blue-haired man sighed and got to work, bringing the shower head over each dried blood patch on the young man. He quickly and carefully ran his hands over each spot, not paying full attention to any of the wounds that were hidden underneath the blood. After about 10 minutes, he had gotten almost all of it off the man's body and moved to his head.

There were many dried blood patches in the man's hair, matting the orange hair and turning it to a blackish red.

He worked his fingers through the hair, routinely pulling his fingers away from the man's scalp to gently pull out clumps.

He finally shut off the water and hooked the shower head back up. He pulled himself up from the floor and away from the shower, frowning at how his clothes were soaked. He opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out a pile of neatly folded towels, leaving only one or two. He kept two for himself and tossed the rest at Szayel.

"Go lay out some towels on the couch. I'd be damned if that expensive piece of furniture gets fucked up over a bit of water."

The pink-haired man merely chuckled and took his leave, leaving the bathroom door open.

Grimmjow quickly unraveled one of the towels and began dabbing the orange-haired man's skin, soaking up the moisture.

He began patting him a little harder, still careful of the wounds on the man's body.

When he was deemed a little dryer than before, he leaned the man forward, his orange hair pressed against Grimmjow's shoulder.

He wrapped the slightly damp towel around the man's shoulders and then lifted him up, glancing momentarily at the floor where a puddle of water was collecting from the man's dripping jeans. He frowned for a moment before going into the living room.

Grimmjow gently placed the man on the couch, propping his head up on the leather-covered armrest.

Szayel was seated in a nearby leather chair, pulling open his kit full of medical supplies and scattering them across the coffee table.

"Well..."

Grimmjow stopped in trying to get the young man comfortable and turned around, regarding Szayel.

"I should get busy. He doesn't look in very good shape. Probably has major blood loss judging by the pasty white color of his skin."

Grimmjow had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and reply 'no shit'.

The blue-haired man moved out of the way and took up the empty leather chair. His eyes quickly zeroed in on the slim golden cat lounging underneath the coffee table. He started making clicking noises, beckoning the cat to him. The cat looked up lazily and stared for a moment before lying back down and returning to its slumber. He shook his head, turning his focus back to what was happening to the boy he had brought home.

He watched as Szayel took a flashlight and checked his eyes underneath his eyelids. The pink-haired man nodded to himself and continued, gently pressing in multiple spots on the man's torso before surveying the cuts on his chest.

He again nodded to himself, pulling out a small jar of salve and rubbing it into the cuts. He quickly twisted the jar shut and moved to observe the man's left arm. He frowned in distaste and turned to Grimmjow.

"What the hell was he doing when you found him?"

Grimmjow scowled at the memory. "He was hit on the side by an 18-wheeler. More like a graze, but it was enough to send him flying backwards."

Szayel didn't show any surprise but raised a questioning eyebrow.

The blue-haired man rolled his eyes. "It was in the center of the city."

Szayel nodded knowingly, turning back to his work. He gently prodded the injured arm, shaking his head and reaching for a rolled up bandage.

He quickly and expertly wrapped the arm, keeping it tight so that it wouldn't be easily irritated, creating a make-shift cast. Grimmjow watched him as he continued with his work.

Szayel Aporro Granz.

Grimmjow had met him during a meeting between the other branches of the company. The heads of each department at each branch were to attend. It had many employees attending, Espada Enterprise was one of the biggest companies in all of Japan, quickly making it's way to the top in the world.

Grimmjow was head of the Advertising Department of Las Noches. And, as it turned out, Szayel was head of the Medical Department of Las Noches.

They had never seen each other in their lives-even though they not only worked at the same company at the same rank and...

Happened to live one floor away from each other.

Funny how things work out, eh?

The two were kind of wary of each other at first, but soon grew to like each other. Neither protruded into the others space too much.

It all worked out great.

Grimmjow began to become anxious, switching positions in his seat every few minutes. He finally let out a long breath of air and stood up.

"I'll be right back. I gotta go get some smokes. And maybe some food for Pantera over there." He pointed at the cat sleeping underneath the coffee table.

Szayel muttered unintelligibly, assumably something along the lines of "fine. Like I need to know your every move."

Grimmjow rolled his eyes and quickly exited the room, making his way to the front door. He locked the door behind him, got in the elevator and waited for it to arrive at the ground floor. As he stared at the arrow above the door, Grimmjow vaguely wondered how many times he had been in an elevator within the past twenty-four hours.

The elevator stopped with a ding and the large mechanical doors slid open. Cirucci was standing right outside of the elevator, a surprised expression crossing her features.

"Yo, Grimmy. I was just bringing these to you." She held up his ring of keys.

Eyes narrowed, he said, "It's been an awful long time for you to park a car and only just _now _be getting my keys back to me..."

She chuckled nervously, tugging on a couple of strands of hair.

"What are you talking about.. ? I was just talking to someone about a problem with their door. I just got side-tracked is all..." Her eyes shifted to the side.

"You didn't try to take my car out for a drive again, did you?" He pressed on mercilessly.

Her purple hair covered her face as she stared at the floor between her feet guiltily. "No.."

He let out a sigh for the nth time that day. "Good god, woman! If you so much as put a tiny _nick_ on my car I will have so many hits put on you that you wouldn't even know how the hell you died."

He released her from his deadly glare, stalking past her to the parking lot to find his car. When he arrived at the Porsche, he circled it twice, carefully inspecting the navy blue paint job and checking for any dents. When he saw nothing that caught his eye, he nodded appreciatively and pulled open the driver-side door, sliding in and starting the car.

A few blocks down, he entered a small corner store and went to the back, picking up a pillow-sized package of cat-food and returning to the counter at the front. He put the food down on the counter and looked up at the clerk, a young woman around the age of 19. She smiled flirtatiously at him. "Anything else you would like, sir?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just a pack of smokes." Grimmjow pointed past her to the glass case at his favorite brand. "That's it."

He pulled out a twenty from his wallet and handed it to her, shoving the change he received from her in his back pocket. He put the cigarettes in his front pocket and heaved the cat-food over his shoulder. He headed out the door without so much as a goodbye or goodnight, leaving the young clerk dismayed and discouraged.

He tossed the food into the front seat of the car, quickly pulling the door shut and turning the key in its slot. Grimmjow didn't even bother putting his seatbelt on-the apartment was only a few blocks down.

He pulled into the parking lot, quickly shuffling out of the car and pulling the bag of cat-food out. When he entered the building, he noticed that Cirucci had wisely vacated the room. He headed to the elevator yet again and pressed the 'Up' button. He stepped inside impatiently when the doors slid open and punched the button for his floor number.

When the doors slid open on his floor, however, he was a bit confused. Szayel was standing outside of his door, his arms crossed and his brow creased rather worriedly.

He stepped out of the elevator and gave the pink-haired man an unamused yet curious stare.

"What's up? Did the kid die?"

Szayel rolled his eyes. "In my care? Hardly."

He opened the door and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, toward the living room. "I'm..." He paused, irritated. "Going to need your help."

Grimmjow lifted a teasing eyebrow, striding past him and into the living room, not even looking at the man on his couch. He entered the kitchen and dumped the cat-food on the island counter in the center along with his cigarettes, pulling the change from his pockets and tossing it into a small, empty ashtray. He quickly returned to the living room. Szayel was by the orange-haired man's side already, waving his hand to Grimmjow to come over.

When he stopped next to the couch, his eyes widened slightly. The man was laying on his back still, except slightly angled to the side so that a portion of his back was visible.

From what Grimmjow could see, the guy's back was _seriously_ torn up.

"I'm going to need you to turn him onto his stomach and hold him down while I work on him. I've already given him a numbing shot but it was only a low dosage. It was the most I'm allowed to have outside of the hospital."

Grimmjow swallowed before nodding, leaning forward and slowly rolling the man onto his stomach. He lifted his torso up a bit settling it down in the right position comfortably and then repeated the same with the lower body, being careful with the casted arm. When he was fully in place, Grimmjow took a better look at the man's back.

There were multiple slightly deep wounds and gashes all across the back, but what really took the prize was the larger cut.

It started from the top of the left shoulder, extending across the expanse of his back and ended on the man's right hip. It seemed to be a rather deep cut, too.

Szayel immediately set to work, filling all of the smaller gashes and cuts in with salve before turning his attention to the larger cut. He gently worked salve into the cut, pushing it as deeply as it could go. The man's hand had begun twitching, small grunts working their way out of chapped lips.

Szayel looked to the blue-haired man and nodded his head to the unconscious man on the couch. Grimmjow nodded back and lifted the man's torso up a bit, sliding underneath him. The man's head was laying in his lap as Grimmjow used the position to hold him down on his mid-back. His face was angled away from the back of the couch, the shuddery inhales and exhales creating heating and cooling sensations on Grimmjow's thigh.

The doctor pulled out a needle and thread for stitching, threading the string through the needle and quickly sterilizing the metal needle. He began the long process of stitching the cut up, ignoring the grunts that were slowly growing in volume and turning into weak cries.

By the time he had gotten to the end of the cut by the hip, it had already been over 20 minutes and Grimmjow was beginning to get sore from holding the man down.

Unconscious or not, the man in his lap was surprisingly _strong_.The man had taken to clutching Grimmjow's lower thigh harshly each time a spark of pain made its way up from the cut.

Grimmjow sighed in relief when Szayel sat back, a quiet breath making its way through his lips.

"All done."

He edged his way out from under the unconscious man as Szayel pulled out another small needle, sterilizing the tip and injecting it in the man.

"Alright. I just gave him pain reliever so it shouldn't be that bad later.."

Grimmjow stood up and stretched, popping his back and shoulders. "So what exactly was all the damage that he had?"

Szayel looked up from putting away all his medical supplies and began to tick everything off in his head.

"Broken arm, lots of major bruising. Glass embedded in his feet..." He pointed to the trashcan in which the glass pieces lay, sitting beside the couch, . "He lost a large amount of blood. He'll be extremely dizzy when he wakes up. Lots of minor cuts, one major cut," he indicated the cut that had just been stitched up, "and a large gash on the back of his head." He pointed to the bandages wound around the guy's head. "You're going to have to change bandages daily. There's the possibility of a concussion. You're going to have to wake him every 2 hours if you don't want him to end up in a coma."

"Great." Grimmjow pinched the bridge of his nose again and then ran his hand through his hair.

The pink-haired man stood up from his position, pulling the bag of medical supplies along with him. He headed to the door opening it and glancing over his shoulder with a frown on his face as he addressed Grimmjow.

"I'll be back every couple of days to check on him. You don't have to start the periodic waking until he himself first wakes up. Do it for the first five days. If he doesn't wake up within four days then we need to get him to the hospital and get him some more help. I may be a professional, but..." He glanced at the man on the couch. "This man is going to need a lot of help."

Szayel's frown slipped upwards into a smile. "Oh, and... I wish you luck with that boy. You're going to have a bit of a hard time with him when he wakes up."

He chuckled mischievously and disappeared out the door, clicking it shut behind him.

Grimmjow stared at the door for a moment, contemplating what the man could have meant. He turned his gaze back to the unconscious man, pausing when his eyes caught sight of the many rolls of bandages left innocently on the coffee table.

He rolled his neck quickly and picked up one of the rolls, unraveling it and turning to the man. He lifted the man's torso up a bit, gently wrapping the bandages all the way around until they ran out. He secured them quickly and lay the man back down, giving a small smile when the man didn't even stir at the movement.

Grimmjow stared at the orange-haired man for a moment, running his hand through his hair and then pausing.

He took a tentative sniff and then groaned quietly. "_Damn_, I need a fucking shower." He glanced at the clock and then back at the man unconscious on the couch.

He glanced back at the clock again and nodded, heading for the bathroom. He quickly stripped off his clothes as soon as the door was shut, tossing them in a small pile in the corner of the room. Stepping into the shower, he twisted the knobs to a cold-warm setting in order to keep himself moving and to lessen the chances of a prolonged shower.

Grimmjow quickly lathered up soap all over his body, rinsing it off and repeating with his hair. He stood under the shower spray for a few extra seconds to collect his thoughts and try to catch up with all that had happened in the past few hours.

He had.. rescued a man from his undoubted death.

And brought him home.

Grimmjow didn't know what to think about that.

He was usually the person who would just kind of watch the incident and then just shrug and walk off, with little chance of telling anybody on the way to his destination.

Being considerate of a person who's on the brink of death was most definitely a new thing for him.

Hell, being considerate of a person in _any_ condition was a new thing for him.

He ran a hand through his hair, idly checking for any shampoo missed and turned the shower spray off. Grimmjow stepped out, water dripping onto the already wet tiles. He supressed a shiver, the spilled water from earlier having grown cold.

He reached underneath the sink and yanked out a towel, quickly wrapping and securing it around his waist. Heading to the door and clicking it open, he stepped into the living room with a yawn. He quickly yanked a small blanket out of the cupboard and threw it over the extensively injured man. He quickly turned up the heat, making sure that the man would stay warm. Making a turn, he pulled open his bedroom door and went over to the bed, picking up the household phone on the bedside table.

He called in to the office, giving the clerk his request for the next two weeks off on vacation leave. He was most definitely going to need it. That night, he collapsed in bed and slept in the deepest sleep that he'd had in years.

**

* * *

**

A few days passed, each day going by with Grimmjow just lazing around at home, listening to the stereo or watching t.v., occasionally running out to get a couple of groceries. Granz went in and out of the penthouse, checking on his charge and changing bandages when it required. He injected the man with liquid painkiller and who-knows-what else. The cuts were covered in salve each day, whether by Grimmjow or Szayel. At one point earlier on, Szayel had brought stiffer material to have wrapped around the injured man's arm, creating a sturdier cast.

It was really stressful taking care of an injured, unconscious man. Even harder than taking care of a certain useless, lazy, very-much demanding cat. Grimmjow was not amused. The only highlight of the first few days was the middle-aged maid walking through the door only to shriek and go running out.

Now _that_ was amusing.

On the third night, Grimmjow took a long, hot shower, keeping his thoughts to a minimum just to enjoy the simplicity of the moment. He stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and headed into the living room to go to the kitchen. He walked past the couch only to stop.

The couch...

The couch was empty.

It took a minute for him to wrap his thoughts around it. He could have sworn there was a person there just a little while ago...

He snapped out of his thoughts when loud purring reached his ears. He looked up only to see the object of his bewilderment sitting in the leather chair, petting Pantera, the golden cat.

_Huh. Pantera usually avoids people_, He vaguely thought.

The orange-haired man paused in his petting-session and looked up, receiving a displeased bite from the golden cat. He gave a rather large flinch but locked eyes with Grimmjow, unconsciously scooting back into the chair a bit.

He opened his mouth, and let out a simple word, his voice hoarse.

"Oh."

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	3. Amnesiac

Started March 21st.

Completed March 22nd.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s): **I do not own Bleach. If I did, Szayel would have survived and become a major kick-ass ally.

**Warning:**

Violence

Alternate Universe

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 2**

**"Amnesiac"**

**

* * *

  
**

Grimmjow just stood there and silently observed the man.

He was actually rather good looking despite all of the wounds and scars that covered his body.

The man had removed the bandages wrapped around his head, revealing again to the world his glaringly orange hair. His eyes were a simple brown, hardened and determined not to waver. His mouth was in a light scowl, his jaw set. His face had good curves, chiseled and smooth, but... it made him seem really young. His body was well toned with a relatively visible show of muscles.

He really was good looking. Not exactly the most picturesque, but definitely good looking. He had never really stopped and just looked at the guy until now. He had been too busy rushing to save his life.

Looks like it paid off, too, considering the fact that he was sitting up and petting his cat.

The man was still frozen in the chair, his brown eyes still stuck on his own electrifying blue.

Grimmjow decided to throw him a rope. "You're up, I see."

The man was startled, not expecting him to speak. He opened his mouth slowly and cautiously.

"Yes," he replied hoarsely.

Grimmjow stepped forward, the man pushing further back into the chair. This made the blue haired man pause before he stepped forward again, but at a much slower pace. At this point, Grimmjow had no idea what to say. So he did what all normal, sane people would do in a situation such as this.

Say what they say in the movies.

"How do you feel?" He asked, the words putting a strange taste in his mouth.

The man's eyes flashed, his face adapting a contemplative stare as he mentally reviewed his body's current condition. Grimmjow slowly sat down on the couch, careful to keep his movements slow and watching the man from the corner of his eye.

"I..." The orange haired man let out a cough and cleared his throat. "I feel like shit."

Grimmjow snorted, pinning the man with an amused stare, sinking back into comfort. Now he could speak like himself again. It was refreshing. "I'd expect so. It'd be a fucking miracle if you didn't." The man let out a cautious smile with the sentence, relaxing ever so slightly.

There was a quiet silence that covered the room, both occupants wondering what to say next. The orange haired man decided to take the lead.

"Where.. where am I?" Each word that the man enunciated was thick and hoarse with the lack of speaking.

Grimmjow turned to the man, idly wondering when he had glanced off at the clock. Each time the man moved, Grimmjow would see the stiffness of his limbs and movements, the natural guarding of his broken arm.

"You are in my penthouse apartment, in the outskirts of Las Noches, Japan."

The man knitted his brows, a frown marring his face. "Las Noches.." he repeated.

Grimmjow suddenly didn't like that tone, a desperate thought striking him.

_Oh good fucking god_. Please, _no._

He decided to test this thought, hoping to every god in every religion that his suspicion was wrong.

"What is your name?" He spoke normally, without regard for startling the man. The man stared at him for a moment, his frown becoming deeper before his eyes flashed brighter for a moment. "Ichigo..."

Grimmjow almost released his pent up breath before Ichigo interrupted him, his voice quiet and scratchy.

"At least.. I _think_ it is."

The blue haired man let out a groan, his head falling into his hands. So _this_ was the problem that Granz was referring to when he left.

_Joy_, he thought sarcastically. _Absolutely brilliant._

"You 'think'," he muttered. "Oh, this just makes everything better. Serves me right for saving some god-damned dying person. Turns out to be a fucking amnesiac..."

He continued to mutter into his hands as Ichigo watched him, observing his assumed rescuer.

His thoughts may not be totally clear, but he could point everything out. Shock-blue hair, electric-blue eyes, muscular stature, upstanding and commanding aura.

Someone whom he just instinctively knew he would have a hard time getting along with.

Even if he was rather sexy.

Ichigo unconsciously blushed at the inappropriate thought that quickly dominated all others. He was starting to get uncomfortable. The blue-haired man was only in a towel, after all. He stared at his hands, willing his perverted thoughts away.

Grimmjow looked up from his fit to see the amnesiac staring at his hands as if they were a foreign article and blushing madly. He raised an eyebrow. Was something wrong with the kid?

He cleared his throat quietly, Ichigo's head snapping up at the small disturbance to his thoughts. "W-what?" He asked hoarsely, fighting down the urge to go into a coughing fit. His throat was bugging him like crazy... like he inhaled a shitload of smoke or something.

Grimmjow just shook his head. "Nothing." He glanced at the cat that had leaped from Ichigo's lap, as the orange haired man stared after it wistfully as it walked away. "Her name is Pantera." He nodded in the direction of the cat, receiving only a simple nod. Grimmjow sighed, aggravated at what little progress was being made. He stood up.

"Just a few days back I had an... _acquaintance_," Grimmjow refused to label Szayel as a friend, "clean your wounds and assess the damage." He ignored the way Ichigo stiffened, although he was admittedly curious as to what the problem was. "Broken arm, as you can tell," he pointed to the cast on Ichigo's arm. "Multiple cuts, shitload of bruising and a gash on the back of the head. You've been banged up like hell, but you'll live. You might have a concussion so I'm going to have to wake you up every two hours. So don't get all pissed off when I wake you up."

Ichigo's eyes widened. "You're going to let me stay here?" He let out a large cough, squinting his eyes and wincing before fixing his gaze back on the blue haired man. "You're not going to kick me out?"

Grimmjow shrugged before standing up. "I don't see why you can't stay here. You don't have any memories, so that means you likely have no idea where the hell to go." He sighed before continuing. "It really shouldn't bug me. Unless you piss me off."

At this, he pinned Ichigo with a fierce glare, promising the amnesiac with a demise he would rather avoid.

"You piss me off and you _will_ be outta here, no objections."

Grimmjow stretched and yawned, heading into the kitchen and into the small adjoining laundry room. He tossed the towels into the dirty laundry hamper and turned to a small basket of clean folded clothes and yanked out a pair of loose pants and boxers, quickly slipping them both on.

He went back into the living room, finding the orange haired man staring at the wall, seeming at a loss of what to do. Grimmjow sighed, gaining the man's attention.

"Look, you might want to go to sleep. I'll take you in for a thorough check-up in a couple of days and then we'll talk about what we're going to do about the situation. In the meantime," Grimmjow ran a hand through his hair tiredly, stepping forward to Ichigo and gently hefted him up, ignoring the way the man's body stiffened before his limbs started flailing. He dumped the flailing man on the couch as gently as possible, a pained yelp escaping him. "I'm fucking tired. I'm going to bed. I'll be up in two hours to poke your ass awake."

He headed off to the bedroom, ignoring the look of confusion on the man's face. It could wait until morning. He was tired as hell.

**

* * *

**

The rest of the night went rather well. Every two hours, Grimmjow would smack the button to turn off his alarm clock, throw off the covers, and roll out of bed. He would trudge to the bedroom door and open it, rubbing his eyes. Head to the couch, poke the guy awake and ask if he was in fact awake and not just sleep talking.

He would then head to the kitchen and get a small glass of ice-cold water and bring it back to Ichigo, forcing him to drink a few sips. His voice would sound really hoarse and thick whenever he woke up, so Grimmjow figured water should at least help a bit. He would then take the glass along with the rest of the water back to the kitchen, dump the water out and place the glass in the sink.

Grimmjow would go back to the couch to have one last look at Ichigo only to stop and find him back in a deep sleep. He would pull the covers over him, stare at him in the moonlight streaming through the large window and then go back to his own room. He would set the alarm for two hours later and then drift off to sleep.

Then the cycle would repeat. It always continued into the late morning. Ichigo would then spend most of the day slipping in and out of consciousness, with the occasional bowl of soup or glass of water pushed his way. This became a routine for the next week, the cycle quickly becoming strenuous for Grimmjow.

On the seventh day, the sun had already flooded the living room through the large window when Grimmjow slammed his fist on the off button of the alarm for what seemed the millionth time and slowly opened his eyes with a groan. He stared at the digital clock, waiting for his blurry vision to clear up.

It was already a few minutes past 11.

He decided that he had better get up for the day, even if he felt sleep-deprived.

Grimmjow threw off the covers and stretched, sitting up and placing his bare feet on the carpeted floor. He stood up slowly, yawning and stretching almost painfully. He rubbed his eyes and headed out of the bedroom door, going automatically to the couch.

He stood behind the back of the couch, staring at Ichigo's sleeping face for a moment. He finally frowned and headed to the kitchen, preparing another glass of water along with a couple of heavy pain killers.

He set it on the counter momentarily as he prepared coffee that he was most definitely going to need to get through the day.

He then picked up the glass and painkillers, going back into the living room and set them on the coffee table. He turned around and placed his hand on Ichigo's shoulder lightly and shook him, startling the man out of sleep.

"W-wha..?" The orange haired man slowly opened his eyes, his voice still hoarse (although better) and thick with sleep.

Grimmjow jabbed a finger at the glass of water. "Here. Water and painkillers. You'd better drink some. By the sounds of it, the water does wonders for your throat. Don't need you choking up blood while you're here." He waited for Ichigo to nod before heading off to the bathroom to go pee and brush his teeth.

He came out to find Ichigo trying to choke down the last of the water, pulling the glass away from his lips and wincing slightly, setting the glass back down on the table. Grimmjow nodded in approval, walking past the couch and into the kitchen.

The orange haired man watched him as he walked by, taking note on how he held himself. It was a very laid-back, comfortable walk, although surprisingly without any slouching.

When Grimmjow entered the kitchen, Ichigo took this time to observe his surroundings in more detail.

It was a rather large room, the walls painted a simple off-white with navy trimming. There was a couch and two leather chairs, along with a glass-top coffee table. There was a flat-screen t.v. set up on the wall and a large stereo behind the couch. Next to the t.v. was a small shelf covered in various things such as magazines, remotes and other knick-knacks. Next to the stereo was a rather large standing rack of c.d.s, almost completely filled. Under the large window was a small dining table. There were 2 doors to the right, containing the bathroom and bedroom and between them, a large, elegant mirror. There were 2 more doors to the left, rooms that had been unused ever since he had arrived.

He took a minute to take all of this in. This man... was really wealthy, wasn't he? He finally sighed, sinking back into the couch and shutting his eyes. When the smell of coffee reached his nose, however, he stood up from the couch, being careful of the wounds covering his body.

Ichigo very slowly inched his way to the kitchen, wary of the cuts on his feet. He poked his head through the doorway. The blue haired man was sitting on a bar stool at the island counter, sipping a cup of coffee and staring at the cell-phone lying innocently on the counter-top.

The amnesiac cleared his throat making the contemplating man snap his head up at the sound. He stared at him for a moment before pointing to the coffee pot. "Do you want some coffee?"

Ichigo fidgeted for a moment, before nodding as Grimmjow stood up and went to fix him a cup. As Grimmjow was pouring him a cup, Ichigo realized he had to use the bathroom. He cleared his throat again, the blue haired man looking up and giving him a questioning look.

"Umm... I need..." He swallowed, getting annoyed with his irritated throat. "I need to use the bathroom..."

The blue haired man just pointed in the general direction past Ichigo and said, "On the left."

Ichigo nodded murmuring a small 'i know' and turned around before stopping and spinning back around as quickly as his wounds would allow him.

His rescuer gave him an odd look. "Something?"

Ichigo furrowed his brows and frowned, staring at him. "I just realized you never told me your name."

Grimmjow paused, replaying all of their minuscule conversations ever since Ichigo woke up through his head.

"Huh. Now that you mention it..." Grimmjow smirked and set down the coffee pot. "I'm Grimmjow. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

Ichigo stared at him for a moment before nodding and turning on his heel, heading to the bathroom. When he finally relieved himself he slowly made his way back into the kitchen to find Grimmjow snapping his cell-phone shut.

He gave him a questioning glance but it was promptly ignored. Sliding gingerly into one of the seats, he shrugged and picked up his prepared cup of coffee, blowing on the surface. He took a sip, relishing in the way the hot liquid felt as it ran down his throat. His eyes had unconsciously closed, his features relaxing.

Grimmjow watched him for a moment. "Feel good?"

Ichigo's eyes snapped open, regarding Grimmjow. He repeated his question. "Does the coffee feel good? On your throat, I mean," he clarified.

Ichigo silently nodded, going back to small sips. There was a prolonged silence before Grimmjow spoke in a no-objections tone.

"I just called a doctor. I'm taking you in for a full check up." Ichigo stayed silent and still for a moment, giving off the image of an animal deciding whether fight or flight would be better.

"Is something wrong with that?" Grimmjow prompted.

Ichigo stared into the brown coffee, his brows furrowed and repressing shivers. He sat there and contemplated for a moment, his hands tightening around the coffee cup.

"It's... fine," he finally bit out.

Grimmjow didn't ask any questions.

"I figured since you're actually able to stay awake and stuff..." Grimmjow trailed off, unsure of how to relay what he thought. "Your smaller bruises have healed and your larger ones have shrunk quite a bit." He eyed the once-large bruise that spread across his right arm. "You're going to need a real cast, one that doesn't fall apart or anything. We might need to get you antibiotics and you will most definitely need a heavier dosage of painkillers than those flimsy things." He pointed to the over-the-counter ibuprofen lying innocently on the counter. "You can walk a hell of a lot better than you could yesterday, and it's best that we get you in to see a professional quickly. Not to mention a certain doctor is too much of a fucking stingy ass to actually help out..." He muttered the last sentence under his breath.

Ichigo was stiff, staring at the countertop. A moment passed before he nodded anxiously. "Okay." It took him a while to relax.

A silence passed before Ichigo looked around curiously, turning his eyes to Grimmjow who was staring at the rather large abundance of glasses in the sink. "Where's Pantera?"

The blue haired man paused for a moment before shrugging. "Who knows? She just roams around anywhere and everywhere. She's probably on a shelf somewhere..."

He stood up and entered the small laundry room, yanking out the smallest pair of pants he had along with another random pair and two shirts.

He walked back into the kitchen and put the small pile of clothes on the island counter, Ichigo watching his actions curiously. He pulled out the small pair of pants and stepped toward the amnesiac.

"Stand up."

Ichigo gave him a confused look but did as he was told. Grimmjow handed the pants to him and watched as Ichigo unfolded them.

"I knew you were smaller than me by at least an inch or two but that's the smallest thing that I've got."

Ichigo held the pants up to his hips, looking down at his legs. The black pants went a little past his feet but they were acceptable.

Grimmjow nodded. "Those will have to work." He pulled out a simple grey dress shirt from the clothes lying on the counter and handed it to Ichigo.

"You can use these for the day. We'll buy you some clothes before we go in for your appointment."

Ichigo stiffened noticeably before relaxing and holding the clothes close to him. "Thanks."

He frowned all of a sudden, sending a curious glance to his nether regions.

Grimmjow noticed the look, shaking his head. "I really think that any underwear that I have will fall off of your skinny ass. You'll either have to go commando or let me wash what you've got on now."

Ichigo flared unexpectedly at the comment.

"Well, _sorry_ I have a skinny ass!" He drawled out the 'sorry' childishly.

Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Ichigo paused, his face flushing in embarrassment. "Sorry. Um... could you.. w-wash them?"

Grimmjow chuckled lightly, finding the orange haired amnesiac rather interesting. "Yeah. You can take a shower if you want. It must be a bitch to walk around feeling like you're covered in dirt. Not to mention you smell like shit considering you haven't taken a bath in at least a week."

The orange haired man's eye twitched. He was just _itching_ to say a smart-ass comment to that, but...

The man was washing his underwear.

He had to be thankful.

Ichigo entered the bathroom and pulled his jeans off as quickly as he could without irritating his wounds. He then pulled off his underwear and went back to the bathroom door, cracking it open and holding them out, his face flushed pink in embarrassment.

Grimmjow took the boxer briefs from the outstretched hand. The hand quickly snapped back inside, the door shutting with a loud _click_.

Grimmjow just chuckled and headed back to the laundry room, tossing the briefs into the washing machine, pouring detergent in and clicking it on, shutting the lid. He went back into the kitchen, grabbing his own clothes. He stepped into the living room and dropped his night pants, uncaring about the large open window.

He was on the top floor.

Who the hell would be able to see him?

He pulled on his clothes quickly before turning on the stereo. He turned and walked to the shelf next to the t.v., grabbing the hairbrush and watch lying toward the back. Grimmjow clicked the watch onto his wrist and ran the brush through his hair lazily, not even bothering to style it.

He walked to the mirror between the bedroom and bathroom doors, tugging on the navy blue collar of his dress shirt and straightening it out. He left the living room and entered the laundry room again, pulling the underwear out of the washing machine and tossing them in the dryer, turning it on. Leaving the room, Grimmjow sat back on the couch, leaning back into the cushions to wait for his rescuee to finish showering. He shut his eyes, listening to the music playing throughout the room.

When several songs had gone by on the stereo, Grimmjow cracked open his eyes, glancing at the clock. Blue eyebrows furrowed. Nearly an hour and a half had passed since Ichigo had gotten in the shower. He then blinked, feeling like he deserved to be smacked upside the head.

Well, he evidently had forgotten that Ichigo might have trouble showering and he was probably either too embarrassed or stubborn to ask for help. Or perhaps he didn't notice it either and was now injured even worse...!

He stood up and went to the bathroom door to knock and ask if Ichigo wanted help.

He just wanted to make sure that a dead man wasn't found in his apartment. It would raise many unnecessary questions and create way too much trouble, that's all. It wasn't like he cared for the guy's well-being or anything.

Truly.

He was just about to knock as the door opened slightly, revealing Ichigo in a towel and a scent of shampoo filled his nose.

Ichigo looked up, surprised. Grimmjow cleared his throat and stepped back, letting the orange haired man pass by him. Ichigo had the shirt and pants in his hands, giving Grimmjow a questioning look.

The blue haired man pointed to the kitchen. "In the laundry room in the dryer. They should be dry by now."

Ichigo nodded and slowly limped to the kitchen, retrieving his underwear.

Grimmjow lounged around in the living room, giving the boy the privacy needed to change. Ichigo finally entered the living room almost ten minutes later, dressed in the clothes provided for him.

The pants fit fine around his hips, although they were a bit longer than they should have been. The gray button-up dress shirt was a little big, it covered his hands and went past his hips quite a bit, but it was otherwise fine.

Grimmjow walked toward Ichigo, stopping in front of him. He tugged on one of Ichigo's arms, having him hold it out. He quickly rolled the sleeve up a bit and repeated with the other.

"Okay, then." Grimmjow nodded, satisfied with his work. He headed to the main door and beckoned Ichigo to follow him.

"Come on, I know you don't have shoes or anything so we'll get you some clothes and shoes before we head to the doctor. I don't need multiple people thinking I'm raping you..." Grimmjow grabbed his jacket off the hook next to the door and snatched his keys out of the ashtray.

Ichigo frowned at the mention of doctor and then twisted his face into a look of confusion at the word 'raping' but nodded nonetheless.

He followed Grimmjow out the door, pausing as he turned around to lock it. They headed into the elevator and took their time to get down to the ground floor, arriving in the lobby. Cirucci was back at her spot behind the desk, her eyes widening when they landed on Ichigo.

Grimmjow resisted the urge to groan. He prodded Ichigo lightly in the arm and whispered slightly. "Don't tell her much. She would have way too much fun with this."

Ichigo sent him a questioning look but nodded in consent. "Okay."

Grimmjow nodded back. "Alright, I'm going to go get my car. I imagine it would hurt your feet like hell if you walked outside like that. Be right back." He sent a minor glare Cirucci's way and walked out the glass doors.

The moment that Grimmjow exited the building, the purple haired woman leapt up from the desk and hurried to Ichigo.

She stopped in front of him, Ichigo stumbling backwards and flinching.

"Who are you and why the hell are you with Grimmjow?" She asked excitedly, almost bouncing on her feet.

Ichigo stepped back even further, determined to stay away from the woman.

"U-ummm... I'm.." He coughed, the pressure and pain of it forcing him to bend over and clutch his knees. The woman rolled her eyes, patting him on the back and mentally urging him to get over his coughing fit.

She had precious information to collect!

He let out a loud yelp. The woman had unknowingly smacked the large slash that stretched all the way across his back. He stumbled backward, still coughing. Cirucci stayed in her spot, her eyes wide as she watched him continue his coughing fit. That had startled her. She decided that he probably didn't like physical contact. Ichigo finally stopped coughing and gingerly stretched into a casual standing position. "I'm... Ichigo."

_Sorry, miss. Don't know if I've got a family name right now..._

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"I had gotten into a bit of trouble and..." He paused, trying to formulate the rest of the lie. Well, more like under-exaggeration. "He just brought me back to get me some medical help."

The woman's eyes narrowed, determined to catch the flaws in his words.

"Why didn't he just take you to the hospital straight away?"

Ichigo nearly panicked. "It was... too far away..?" He ended the answer with a questioning and unsure tone.

She seemed to accept the answer though, for she promptly smiled and reached forward to pat him on the shoulder, stopping her hand halfway when she saw the way he tensed. She chose her words carefully. "I'm glad he isn't as totally uncaring as he seems. At least he seems to show a little bit of decency toward you."

Ichigo was a little surprised. She truthfully seemed like the type of woman who would get as much information as she possibly could and spread it mercilessly. She actually seemed to care about Grimmjow and was surprisingly observant of little things and thoughtful, keeping her distance from Ichigo.

Ichigo smiled a bit, not exactly knowing what to say. Finally, the purple haired woman extended a hand with a brilliant smile. He hesitantly took her hand and shook it firmly, tell-tale signs of a smile lighting up on his own face.

"Well, my name is Cirucci. Feel free to talk to me anytime you want or ask for help. I'm sure it would be a pain in the ass to resort to talking to old sour blueberry over there." She pointed to where Grimmjow stood outside of the door, waving his hand to Ichigo, beckoning him over.

"Thank you, Cirucci." He tilted his head forward in a simple and short display of a bow before sliding past her, keeping his distance to avoid coming in contact with her.

He walked to the doors and stepped out into the cold air, goosebumps immediately erupting across his skin. Grimmjow stalked off to the navy blue Porsche sitting in front of the sidewalk, getting into the driver's side.

He leaned over and opened the passenger side door, calling to Ichigo, "Get in." Ichigo slid into the seat, shutting the door behind him and awkwardly put on his seat belt.

**

* * *

**

They had wandered around the outskirts of the city, stopping outside of random clothing shops to find some kind of apparel that suited Ichigo. At one point, Grimmjow had quickly run inside a random store, coming out with a simple pair of tennis shoes for Ichigo to wear into any stores that they would go into. They continued to wander around the city to different shops. There weren't many displays in the shop windows that really interested Ichigo, though.

But there had been a few displays in a certain shop window that caught Ichigo's eyes. They had gotten out of the car and explored the shop thoroughly. Ichigo found that there were two brands he particularly liked.

One of which was by the name of Soul Society, a brand that Grimmjow had (very) briefly explained was at the top of the business and was really quite well off. It sold everyday clothes, the basics-jeans, t-shirts, hoodies with interesting designs.

The other brand that had _really_ caught his eye, however, was a brand called Shinigami Rep. The logo was bold, its letters blocked and sort of spiky. The style was kind of hip, usually dealing with street-type clothes; baggy pants, jackets that had flame designs, simplistic t-shirts and other things.

When he asked Grimmjow about this brand, the man had said he was unsure, that it was probably a smaller brand. So they asked a nearby employee. The lady had smiled brightly at the two, informing them that it was a small, new branch off of Soul Society, being run by only one up-and-coming designer.

She pointed to one of the clothing items tags, at the small signed initials in the corner.

_'K.I.'_

"Nobody knows who he or she is. Just that they are quickly making their way to the top," the woman had said, innocently telling them that it was quickly becoming her favorite brand.

Grimmjow purchased many pairs of pants, shirts and a jacket from the brand. He also bought a couple of hats when he saw that Ichigo had been eyeing them. He even bought underwear and socks for Ichigo, causing the poor young man to blush yet again.

They walked out of the shop with multiple bags in their hands, Ichigo with a brand new hat atop his head and sneakers on his feet. They tossed the bags into the car and shut the doors behind themselves.

Inside the car, Grimmjow glanced at his watch and then at Ichigo.

"We have a little over an hour. Hungry?"

Ichigo nodded.

Grimmjow pulled away from the parking lot and headed to the opposite side of the city, keeping to the outskirts of the city.

He wasn't in any hurry to get there. In fact, he wanted to avoid the center of city at all costs. Grimmjow felt a little... anxious at the thought of Ichigo going through the middle of the city.

He pulled in to the small parking lot of a family-run cafe and parked his car in an empty space. He turned off the engine and exited the car, Ichigo doing the same. He quickly walked to the door, waiting for Ichigo before opening the door for him.

They entered the cafe and took a small table next to the front windows, looking at the small menus that were embedded beneath the glass of each table. The two skimmed over the different displayed foods, trying to decide what they wanted.

"I like this cafe." Ichigo spoke up after having a quick glance around. "It's simple. Cozy."

Grimmjow nodded, waving over a waiter. He ordered a water along with a bagel for himself and then looked questioningly over at Ichigo.

Ichigo stared at the menu for a moment before relaying to the waiter that he just wanted a simple sandwich and water.

They sat in silence as Ichigo looked around at the environment of the cafe. It was a really quaint cafe, with ten 2-seater tables at most. There was a small counter at the back with a register for anyone who wanted 'to-go' food. Each table had two menus (on each side) strategically and cleverly embedded beneath its glass to ensure that they wouldn't be lost or damaged. In the middle of each table was a small circular spinning table that had a notepad and pen attached to it.

Ichigo rotated the notepad to face him and read the sentence printed at the top.

_'Like something? Dislike something? Tell us! We can improve!'_

Ichigo grabbed the chain-attached pen and drew a little cartoon-figure of a human and a cat, the human doing a victory or peace sign and scribbled words in the corner of the page.

_'It's great the way it is.'_

He looked up to find Grimmjow staring at the paper, a surprised expression on his face. Grimmjow looked up from the paper and gave a small smile, almost causing Ichigo to have a heart-attack.

Was that.. a smile?

A _smile_?

From _Grimmjow?!_

_Wow. The world must be ending soon._

He may not have known the man for a long time but, if there was one thing he _did_ know about him, it was that _he did not smile_.

Smirks: hell yeah. Scowls: sure. Frowns: why not?

But _smiles_? Not so much.

"You draw rather well. Do you like it?"

Ichigo nodded, keeping his face as neutral as possible. "Yeah. At least I'm pretty sure I do." Ichigo paused, letting the frustration of his rather _lacking_ past show on his face.

His voice was starting to get better. His throat didn't hurt nearly as much.

He rested his face in his hands, an unseen smile taking over his face.

_It must be from Grimmjow forcing me to drink all that water this past week._

The waiter stepped up next to them, interrupting the good aura surrounding them with a loud announcement of their orders. He set the tray down and turned around, stalking off to the next table.

Ichigo took his own order and pushed Grimmjow's toward him.

They both chewed on their food, dining in comfortable silence.

When they finished their food (Ichigo actually only eating half), they stacked the plates and glasses before heading out to the car, getting in and shutting the doors behind them. Grimmjow gave a glance at the car clock and turned the key in the slot, pulling the car out of the parking lot. "It's time for your appointment."

He pretended he didn't see Ichigo's very-much-visible stiffening.

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	4. Patient

Started March 27th.

Completed March 28th.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s): **I do not own Bleach. If I did, Rukia's zanpakuto power would be shown way more often.

**Warning:**

Violence

Alternate Universe

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 3**

**"Patient"**

**

* * *

  
**

When Grimmjow and Ichigo walked through the doors of the doctors office, there was one thing that the orange-haired amnesiac noticed that he hadn't noticed before. Every person that they passed, male or female, no matter who they were, would turn and look at Grimmjow. And it wasn't just any kind of look or glance. It was most definitely a look that would scream either 'fuck me', 'look at me' or 'good god, _hello_ sexy'.

At first he found it a little disturbing. But when they stepped up to the check-in desk and the woman behind the desk looked up from her computer only to have her eyes widen and a flirtatious smile cross her face, he found it... _annoying_.

He wasn't exactly sure _why_ it was annoying. He just knew that it was. Ichigo ruthlessly squashed the urge to roll his eyes as his blue-eyed savior relayed his information and told the lady of their appointment.

Looking elsewhere to take his mind off of things, he glanced around at the rather large waiting room behind himself. It was very open-spaced, but crammed full of chairs, almost each seat taken up by a sick or injured person. He mused that it must be a rather popular or well-off doctor's office. After all, not many other doctors offices are quite so full.

At the quick and simple thought, he paused. He wasn't supposed to remember something like that. He had amnesia.

Why did he know that?

As Grimmjow quickly filled out the sheet handed to him by the desk-lady, Ichigo thought long and hard, delving into his mind as far as he could to pull out the memories that had almost resurfaced. But they kept on dancing out of his reach. He could vaguely feel the nostalgia left behind of the memory, but he was unable to catch the evading memory.

He sighed aloud in frustration, his small light of hope being crushed mercilessly.

_Well, it's okay, I suppose. I do have amnesia after all. It's not like it's all just going to randomly come back to me... _He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Grimmjow raise his voice, saying his name.

"Yeah?" Ichigo glanced at Grimmjow, his attention not fully on the man as he still half-ass tried to grasp the memory.

"Come on. The doctor is waiting. We almost lost the appointment because we were a few minutes late." At this, Ichigo cringed a bit before stiffly nodding and mumbling a quick agreement.

Grimmjow watched him for a moment before guiding him to the nurse that was waiting at the inner-door to show them to their private room. They headed deeper into the building, weaving through the blank white hallways. The nurse finally stepped up in front of a simple door and opened it, allowing the two men in before stepping in herself.

She closed the door behind herself and turned to where Ichigo and Grimmjow were standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. She waved her hand to both the chair in the corner and the examination bed. "Go ahead and sit. I'm just going to ask a few questions before I take down the basics-height, weight, blood pressure, and all that other stuff."

She settled herself into the stool next to the small counter and turned toward Ichigo, successfully (and amazingly) ignoring Grimmjow altogether.

"Alright, I noticed on the filled out sheet that you don't have a family name written down... or an age or anything like that. There is actually not very much information on here at all. Just your individual name... and a few injuries that you have." She watched the orange-haired man, curious for his response.

Ichigo nodded slowly. "Yes. I have amnesia." At this the woman leaned back a bit, her eyes widening in surprise as she brushed her brown hair out of her face, motioning for him to continue.

"The only thing I remember is bright lights, an immense relief... and then waking up in his apartment in a lot of pain." He pointed in Grimmjow's direction who was perked up slightly at the interesting new information. The brown-haired nurse turned her head in his direction, looking for affirmation.

The blue-haired man was crossing his arms, his face blank. He finally replied, "Yeah. He was unable to get out of an 18-wheelers path in time and his arm was hit, making him slam his head into the sidewalk. I imagine he already had many injuries before then but..." He shrugged slightly. "I just brought him home and had a friend look at him and then after he started feeling better, decided to bring him here."

The nurse nodded quickly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Almost like some kind of thing you read about in books, or see in movies!" Grimmjow frowned at this comment, thinking it over before replying. "That's usually only for romance stories."

The woman seemed to be surprised by this as she coughed into her hand slightly and frowned. "Oh, yeah. Sorry..." She gave a small sigh before reaching forward to tug on Ichigo's arm to pull him toward the weight scale, only to have jolt backwards out of reach. She gave him a questioning glance as he pinned her with an apologetic expression. He stood up and slowly made his way to the scale that she pointed out.

They quickly took down the basic information. He was rather healthy, actually. His blood pressure was really good (for someone so injured), his eye sight good although a bit fuzzy from the previous accident. He was a little happy when the nurse told him his height was a perfect 5'11", only to have his happiness ripped away from him when Grimmjow mentioned his own 6'1" stature.

They were finished relatively quickly with almost no incident (only Grimmjow having to wrap the blood-pressure pad around his arm and hold the stethoscope in place when the nurse was swatted away). The nurse put away her stethoscope and picked up the clipboard containing all of her notes on Ichigo's condition.

"Alright, I'm just going to go give these to the doctor. He will be with you shortly." She gave a half-moon smile and stepped out of the room, leaving the two men alone.

They sat in a simple silence, not quite awkward, but not quite comfortable. Ichigo began to wander through his head again, searching for the elusive memories. After many minutes a confident knock resounded on the door, opening and revealing a rather average almost-middle-aged man, his long blond hair tied back into a ponytail.

He gave a smile to the room's occupants as he stepped in and closed the door behind himself. He strode over to the previously occupied stool and sat down, flipping through the papers on his clipboard.

Ichigo just stared at the man for a moment. Wasn't this man supposed to like, say hello or something whenever he first walked in? Isn't that the manners that doctors and nurses were taught, to be friendly with their patients? After all, everytime he visited the doctor they would...

The orange-haired man cringed, the flash of a memory flitting through his mind. He shut his eyes, desperately chasing after it, but again, it escaped.

His eyes slid open as he heard Grimmjow calling his name again, turning to the blue-haired man. He had an irritated look on his face, most likely annoyed that Ichigo kept retreating into his mind.

Ichigo mumbled out a small apology as he turned to the doctor that had apparently been trying to converse with him and discuss his problems. He quickly reviewed all of the injuries listed on the sheet, confirming that there were in fact no other injuries.

"Well," the doctor said as he pushed his glasses further up his crooked nose. "It seems as if that doctor friend of yours did a rather good job with his injured cuts." He glanced at Grimmjow who was holding a squirming Ichigo down as the doctor looked at his marked up back. Every time the doctor would even _think_ about touching his back, he would desperately try to get away from the probing and analyzing hand. Eventually the doctor had given up and just resorted to close visual examination.

"This wound right here," he pointed to the large slash across the expanse of Ichigo's back, "is very well stitched up. It will heal beautifully. Although there will still be scar tissue..." He gave the squirming orange-haired man an apologetic glance even though he was unable to see it.

"Well, I sincerely hope that _Szayel _doesn't hear that. It's only obvious that he'll go around gloating like the fucking annoying ass he is," Grimmjow murmured darkly under his breath. The doctor finally leaned back, obviously not having heard the blue-haired man. Grimmjow took that as his cue to release Ichigo. The orange-haired man slowly sat up, minding his broken arm. The doctor watched the defensive action before clicking his tongue.

"We're going to have to replace that with a stronger cast. That one will fall apart pretty quickly. Plus, it looks like you bathed with it." Ichigo gave the doctor an incredulous look. "What am I supposed to do? Not bathe until my arm heals?"

The doctor chuckled loudly, uncaring of the scowl that took residence on the man's face. "No, no, silly boy." Ichigo's scowl only deepened at the word _boy_. "You just have to keep it out of the water. Wrap it in a plastic bag or something." He stepped to the door and poked his head out, calling to a nurse and asking her to bring something.

The blonde doctor turned back around and faced the two, Grimmjow having fallen back into his seat in the corner of the room. "I'm going to have to give you a numbing shot and then break the thin cast that you've got right now." He pointed to the thin layered cast on Ichigo's arm. "Then I'm gonna redo the cast and make a 4 layer cast for you. It should be kept on the arm for..." He glanced at the sheets of information, nodding thoughtfully. "About four and a half weeks. You've already had that simple cast on for about a week and a half, so that should work out just fine."

Ichigo nodded slowly, still not fully understanding the process of casting his arm. Grimmjow let out a low sigh in his corner of the room before standing up and heading over to the amnesiac, sitting beside him. Ichigo tensed slightly, glancing at Grimmjow in a questioning manner.

There was a knock at the door, the young nurse from before stepping in with a small case of needles and the numbing solution in one arm and gauze and plaster in the other. She haphazardly dumped the armload of gauze and plaster onto the counter and situated the case of needles and the solution delicately next to it.

The doctor stared at the young woman for a moment before shaking his head and muttering under his breath as she turned around, scratching her head with an embarassed expression. She pulled one of the larger needles out of the case, quickly sterilizing it and filling it with the numbing solution. She handed the needle to the doctor who had already pulled on his plastic gloves.

Grimmjow, knowing what was going to happen, put his hand over Ichigo's eyes, who immediately began to try and squirm out of his grasp. He had to hold Ichigo down by the upper arm as the doctor leaned forward and poked the needle under the skin of his left arm, right above the elbow.

Ichigo let out a pathetic whimper, his fear escalating to unprecedented heights. He couldn't see what was going on. He had to know what was going on. He had to be able to _see_. There could be danger. And he would have to _run_.

Almost immediately after his flight instincts began to surface, Grimmjow pulled his hand away from Ichigo's face, slowly releasing him from his grasp. The amnesiacs eyes shot open, darting back and forth between the nurse and the doctors as he backed up on the examination bed. After a few moments of utter stillness from both the doctor and the nurse, he began to relax, glancing in Grimmjow's direction.

Grimmjow was watching his actions quietly, analyzing his every move. What made him fear being touched by a doctor? By a nurse? By anyone? He had to be physically held down by the blue-haired man himself for anyone to be able to come within a foot of him. The only person who could physically touch him was Grimmjow.

And he had begun to realize that very quickly. Thus why he took up the job of holding the poor frightened man down each time the doctor had to come close. It was interesting, but at the same time...

Frightening.

What in the world could make a man so afraid of people?

Grimmjow pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He had to push those thoughts back. Right now, the doctor had to get up very close and very personal to be able to do what he was about to do.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he leaned his torso in Ichigo's direction, a serious look on his face. The orange-haired man stared at him, waiting for what Grimmjow was going to say.

"You're going to need to let him get close to you," he muttered. Ichigo stiffened. "It's the only way that arm of yours is going to heal. I'm not a medical professional-no matter what way I do it, it won't turn out right. You're going to have to let him undo that cast and rewrap your arm."

Ichigo was frozen, staring at Grimmjow. The words rolled around in his head, sending a dreadful, flopping feeling down to his stomach. He stayed quiet for a few moments, contemplating before he finally gave a very stiff nod and released a shuddery whoosh of breath.

"Okay." It was said very quietly. So quiet, that the nurse standing behind the doctor only a meter away had to strain to hear the word.

The orange-haired man slowly scooted toward the doctor, to the edge of the examination bed. The crinkling of the layed out paper on the bed was the only sound heard in the room. He slowly held out his arm in the direction of the doctor, muttering to him, "it's already numb."

The doctor nodded his head, his eyes still on Ichigo as he reached back for the small shears. As soon as he leaned forward to cut off the cast, the amnesiac almost immediately began to hyperventilate, his eyes sliding shut. He grasped the fabric of Grimmjow's pants with his uninjured right hand, tightening it into a clenched fist. The doctor noticed the change, quickly doing his work and pulling the plaster material off before unwrapping the cotton padding underneath.

The arm was a little hard to look at. Anyone who saw it could most definitely tell that it was indeed broken. It was swollen quite a bit and was covered in a large, blue-yellow bruise.

Grimmjow put his hand over Ichigo's, awkwardly rubbing the top of his hand to comfort him. He wasn't really sure how to comfort anybody... it was a completely new concept to him. Ichigo's eyes stayed closed but his breathing had begun to lighten up significantly.

The doctor quickly pulled out a fresh roll of cotton padding from the drawers behind him and wrapped it around the arm. He then began wrapping the gauze and applying the custom plaster, repeating the pattern of gauze and plaster until 4-5 layers were done, the plaster finishing up the process. It was a special quick-dry plaster, to ensure that they wouldn't be waiting for it to dry for a long time.

When the doctor finally leaned back, Grimmjow shook Ichigo's hand lightly, signaling him to open his eyes. Ichigo's eyes slid open, anxiously and cautiously regarding the doctor who had scooted a ways back. After a couple moments, he finally regarded the new cast around his arm. It was a simple white cast, but as he lifted his arm and moved it around, he could tell it was sturdy.

As Ichigo observed the cast, poking and staring at it, the nurse collected the case and disposed of the needle in its special bin, wrapping up the cotton padding and stepping out the door with a smile directed in Grimmjow's direction. The door shut behind her with a click and the doctor cleared his throat.

"Alright, now the nurse has informed me of your amnesia." Ichigo glanced back up at the doctor, a wary expression on his face. The blonde doctor leaned forward, lacing his fingers together as his elbows rested on his knees.

"In some cases, the amnesiac's memories are not regained." He held his hand up as he saw the twin expressions of horror cross Grimmjow's and Ichigo's faces. "But in most, the memories come back over time, usually with certain triggers. You might experience something similar to something that has happened in your past, or even see somebody that you once knew and have some memories concerning that person come back. There are many different triggers that could bring back memories. You most likely fall in the latter category, and will regain your memory with time." Grimmjow nodded along with the doctor's words as Ichigo stayed silent.

The doctor specifically turned to Ichigo, speaking only to him. "Chances are that you will begin to have small memories make their way back to you very soon, so I want you to tell him," he pointed at Grimmjow, "each time you remember something. He will keep track of it." He eyed Grimmjow pointedly. "When you come back to have the cast removed, we will go over the progress of your memory recovery and analyze it from there."

Both men nodded in affirmation as the doctor stood up and made his way to the door. He opened the door and waved his hand to the outside. "Now all you have to do is talk to the receptionist, get your written prescription and then you may leave. Set up a new appointment for roughly 4 and a half weeks from today and we will have the cast removed and track the progress of your memory recovery."

Grimmjow and Ichigo walked out of the room, Ichigo wincing at the dull pain making its way up from his cut-covered feet. The doctor guided them back through the weaving hallways to the front desk. Grimmjow stepped up to the desk, beginning the arduous task of filling out more paperwork. Ichigo poked the man's side, gaining his attention.

"I'm going to run to the bathroom," he said as he turned and crossed the hallway with a slight limp and headed into the small bathroom. Grimmjow merely nodded and turned back to the paperwork.

Ichigo quickly took care of business and began washing his hands, lathering his hands up with soap and rinsing them. He glanced up at the mirror as he was washing his hands and paused. There was a flash across his eyes, a memory of long ago dancing through his mind. It was all run together and fuzzy, too-fast played, and yet... clear.

It was back from when he was young, and visited the doctor after getting injured in a fight. It was a small doctor's office that rarely had more than 10 patients in it at one time. He could remember arguing with the doctor about being a phony... and being told that smiles were the common courtesy. He had been about to punch the guy, but... The memory was interrupted when a burning sensation spread through his head, a major headache presenting itself to Ichigo.

He gripped his head tightly with both hands, leaning against the tiled wall of the bathroom and hissing in pain. The memory was trying to disappear, but he couldn't let it. He couldn't lose it.

He wouldn't.

He tried to press further into the memory, desperately grasping at the nostalgia that was wrapping itself around him. Just as he was about to grab the rest of the memory, a hollow, echoing voice pulled him away from it.

_**Don't. Not yet.**_

Ichigo let out a desperate gasp, the voice leaving as quickly as it came. He slowly released his head, the burning sensation of the headache slipping away. He stared at the opposite wall for a moment, contemplating what had just happened. Well, at least he had finally regained a memory.

That counted for something, right?

After thinking about it for a minute, his spirits were raised. He had to tell Grimmjow about what had just happened. The doctor _had_ specified it.

He unlatched the lock and stepped out of the bathroom, a small smile on his face. He began to make his way back to Grimmjow only to freeze in his steps. The blue-haired man was standing in front of the nurse from earlier.

The nurse had her hands behind her back, her thumbs twiddling nervously. Her cheeks were flushed in an uncomfortable blush as she spoke to him. She reached into her pocket pulling out a slip of paper and quickly wrote digits on it.

Ichigo's stomach dropped. A phone number. She was flirting with Grimmjow and giving him her phone number. His lips pulled into a scowl.

_Just like the rest of the women._

Ichigo turned on his heels and headed back into the bathroom to splash water on his face. When Ichigo did so, he missed Grimmjow shaking his head and pushing the slip of paper back to the nurse. The brown-haired woman frowned and walked away, her gait spelling disappointed.

Ichigo exited the bathroom again and walked up to Grimmjow, stopping beside him. The blue-haired man silently glanced at him before taking the slip of paper that the clerk behind the counter held out to him. With Ichigo's prescription list in hand, Grimmjow lead him out of the doctor's office and to the car.

**

* * *

**

When in the car, Grimmjow glanced at his watch before turning to Ichigo. "It's still a little early. Even though it's a little dark out, do you want to go somewhere? The park, maybe?"

The blue-haired man half-expected the amnesiac to harp on him about not being a kid. So he was pleasantly surprised when Ichigo had stared thoughtfully at the street in front of them and nodded slightly.

"The park would be nice." Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at the statement before starting the car and putting it in drive, heading to the park nearby his house.

By the time they arrived at the park, it was already dark, the streetlights having lit up and illuminating the sidewalk with a yellowish glow. Grimmjow parked next to the sidewalk and got out, Ichigo following suit.

They quietly walked through the simplistic empty park, enjoying the greenery all around them. It was the most greenery in one spot in that particular city. Many of the citizens liked the park.

When Grimmjow had turned and glanced at Ichigo, he gave a large frown. He had forgotten that the man didn't have a jacket on. Ichigo was shivering, goosebumps covering his visible skin. And to go all the way back to the car just to get a jacket...

Grimmjow just shrugged. No harm, right? He pulled off his own jacket and plopped it on Ichigo's shoulders. Ichigo jumped slightly, not expecting the sudden weight on his shoulders. He turned and looked at Grimmjow, clutching the fabric closer to him with his uninjured arm. A smile lit across his face, thankful for Grimmjow's thoughtfulness.

They continued to walk in silence as Ichigo snuggled into the jacket. He could smell Grimmjow on it. A spicy, sweet smell-so contradicting, like cinnamon. He recognized it as the scent of the shampoo that he had used earlier that day.

The blue-haired man guided him to an empty bench, sitting down and motioning for him to follow suit when he noticed Ichigo's limping becoming more profound. They sat together and enjoyed the quiet night in silence. Ichigo stared straight ahead, across the street at a small group of street-side stores.

The stores were still open, but didn't have customers. Ichigo lazily looked from window to window, glancing at each display item. Finally, his eyes stopped in one particular window, focusing on a particular item.

Grimmjow noticed Ichigo's attention was absorbed on something and glanced in the same direction. Ichigo was staring into an art shop's window, at the small display of art supplies. A small case of pencils, erasers, pastels, and other supplies stood up at an angle. But in the middle of the display, stood a simple leather-bound sketchbook.

Nothing was really special about it. It was just a sketchbook. Ichigo continued to stare at it for a moment before shaking his head and standing up slowly. "Let's go back." He received a nod from Grimmjow and they headed back to the car, buckling up and going back to Grimmjow's apartment.

**

* * *

**

They got prepared for bed, Ichigo using some of Grimmjow's clothes for the night. He quickly got on the couch and snuggled up under the covers, hopeful for sleep to claim him.

Just as he began drifting off to sleep, Grimmjow tapped him on the shoulder, telling him he was going out to get a pack of cigarettes and Ichigo's prescriptions and that he'd be right back. Ichigo nodded sleepily and drifted back off, uncaring as he heard the main door shut behind Grimmjow.

When Ichigo woke up to the sound of Grimmjow's bedroom door clicking shut roughly a half hour later, there was a leather-bound sketchbook laying on the coffee table, illuminated by the glow of the moonlight streaming through the window.

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	5. Helper

Started April 4th.

Completed April 5th.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s): **I do not own Bleach. If I did, Nel would be shown a whole lot more often. Nel is love.

**Warning:**

Violence

Alternate Universe

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 4**

**"Helper"**

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**

When Grimmjow exited his room the next morning, he didn't expect his amnesiac charge to be awake. But the orange haired man was most definitely awake. He was turned around on the couch, his chin resting on the back of it, staring at Grimmjow as he shut the bedroom door.

Ichigo's eyes never left Grimmjow's form. He kept very silent, just staring at him. After a few moments of this, the blue haired man became uncomfortable, and in turn, irritated.

"What?" He snapped, startling Ichigo. The orange haired man glanced off to the side guiltily, quietly murmuring, "thank you." Grimmjow paused, his brows furrowing in confusion for a moment. "For what?" He asked.

Ichigo leaned away from the back of the couch, revealing his arms crossed over a leather-bound sketchbook. The same one that he had bought for Ichigo the previous night.

Grimmjow's eyes widened slightly, remembering. He then softened his gaze, regarding the sketchbook and then Ichigo before replying, "yeah, yeah. Whatever."

He walked off into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

**

* * *

**

Grimmjow had shown Ichigo where to find pencils and pens, on the shelf full of knick-knacks. He often had to use writing utensils himself for work, so he had plenty. Ichigo's eyes had lit up in excitement, eagerly grabbing some pencils and sharpening them to a sharp point.

It had been a rather lazy day, Ichigo lying around in the living room making random sketches and doodles in the sketchbook. Grimmjow habitually pulled out the prescriptions that he'd gotten the night prior and shoved them Ichigo's way.

They spent the day watching movies, listening to music, just enjoying each others company silently. It had been a rather unproductive day, but it was a good change of pace compared to Ichigo laying in bed unable to move and Grimmjow nursing him to health. It was also better than running around all over the city for mundane things.

Grimmjow found himself liking the unusual calm that the day produced. He was used to running around trying to finish projects for work or staying at work really late.

Lately, he had become accustomed to taking care of the amnesiac and trying to nurse him to health. It was a strange feeling, but most definitely not unwelcome.

He found himself becoming more attached to the orange haired man, becoming unable to imagine a life without him. Yes, they occasionally got into fights and arguments, but days like this, days full of silent compatibility, days of quietly enjoying each others company made it all worth it.

It scared him a bit.

He had never been so attached to anybody. He had always pushed them away and liked it like that. He wasn't a people person. What little friends, acquaintances or companions he had were rather distant. It was the way things had always been.

But this man, this orange-haired brat, was getting underneath his skin at a startling rate. He enjoyed teasing him, enjoyed arguing with him, enjoyed talking with him, enjoyed being around him. He had never found someone so... enjoyable.

_He's very interesting_, he mused as he watched Ichigo lean closer to the sketchbook, furiously trying to get the perfect shape._ I like to be around him. Even if he is a brat. _He added the last bit to save what little dignity he had for himself.

He buried his face in his hands, a tired sigh escaping his lips. _What the hell is going on with me? _He thought as Ichigo glanced up and smiled._ I really can't get too attached to him. It'll just end badly._

And so he decided to distance himself from the amnesiac.

**

* * *

**

Over the next few weeks, Ichigo had began to become antsy. Grimmjow had started going back to work and he was left at home, with little to do but draw. His sketchbook was almost completely filled. Grimmjow had even taken to leaving his spare laptop out for Ichigo to mess around on, but even that didn't keep his attention for many days. He began to grow worried.

Grimmjow didn't talk to him much anymore. Granted, he never really talked much from the beginning, but he most definitely noticed the change, and there was much less conversation.

He became a bit worried about what he was supposed to do, also. He stayed at home drawing all day while Grimmjow had to go to work and earn money. Ichigo wasn't doing anything productive even though most of his wounds have long healed (save for his broken arm). He wanted to help out. But with what? He didn't have any memories, and therefore no job. As far as he knew, he didn't have any knowledge on how to do household chores. And he did feel rather guilty about the maid quitting because of him...

How could he help Grimmjow out? Each night the man came home later and later, downright exhausted and still had to do things around the house.

One night his concerns were solved when Grimmjow came home and began preparing dinner, throwing a bunch of vegetables and meat into a large pot for a stir fry. Ichigo sat at the island counter, watching him tiredly pour in various spices to bring out the flavor.

When he reached for a certain spice however, Ichigo shot up from the counter and snatched it out of his hands. He ignored Grimmjow's befuddled expression and untwisted the cap as he leaned over and smelled the stir fry before sniffing at the spice. His own expression twisted into a grimace, quickly twisting the cap back on and putting it back on the spice rack.

"Don't put that in there." Grimmjow just continued to stare at him. Ichigo stepped back with a blush when he realized how close he was to the blue haired man. "Sorry..." He looked up, the blush slowly disappearing from his cheeks. "You can't put that spice in there." He pointed to the one that he had just deposited back in the spice rack. "It'll make it taste too sweet."

Grimmjow finally snapped out of his confusion, pinning him with a questioning look. "And how the hell would you know that?" Ichigo paused at the question, thinking it over.

He didn't really know himself. He just... knew. He thought a bit harder, the nostalgic feeling trying to make its way back. Ichigo focused even harder, vaguely remembering doing the same thing in the past, leaning over the meal to get the scent and then smelling the spice to see if it matched.

His eyes were hazy, absorbed in the small flash of a memory. Grimmjow snapped his fingers twice, gaining the orange haired man's attention again. "Hello? Did you hear me? How did you know that?"

Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows a bit, slightly annoyed that Grimmjow had cut off his memory. "I think... I used to do that in the past. Use the smell to decide on the spices..." He trailed off a bit, trying to grab hold of the memory again.

Grimmjow's eyes widened in recognition. "You're starting to remember? How much?" Ichigo let out an annoyed sigh when the memory danced out of his reach again. "Not much. Just a vague memory of cooking..."

The blue haired man stared at him for a moment, torn between the feeling of excitement and irritation. He was finally remembering something..! But... it was only a vague, hazy memory. It didn't have much use in bringing back the amnesiac's memories altogether.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating. Maybe he wasn't going to regain his memories. Maybe he was going to continue on in his life without remembering who his parents were, who his friends were, all of the experiences that he had. How would it be to live such a life? To continue on without knowing anything about your childhood? Without knowing anything about--

Grimmjow was pulled out of his thoughts when Ichigo loudly yelled. "Ahh!!" Grimmjow turned to Ichigo with a questioning look on his face, pulling out of his thinking pose. "What the hell is it now?" He growled.

Ichigo was startled for a moment before smiling excitedly. "I know how to cook! I can help out around here now!" Grimmjow stared at him, blinking his eyes in confusion.

_Is that what...?_ The blue haired man let out a quick exhale of breath, his mouth twitching upwards in amusement. "Why are you so adamant on helping out around here...?" He questioned aloud, more to himself.

Ichigo didn't answer and just kept on staring at Grimmjow happily, willing him to accept the proposal. He stubbornly stayed silent, staring at Ichigo without any expression.

After a few moments, his will finally crumbled as he let out a sigh. "Alright, fine. You can cook for the both of us from now on. But it had better be good. You can start cooking tomorrow," he said as he eyed the stir fry. He snatched up a large wooden spoon and stirred before nodding, turning off the stove-top. "We've got a meal to eat."

They sat down to eat dinner, Ichigo happily shoving food in his mouth. He took a large gulp of water when an un-chewed portion of food got lodged in his throat. It didn't dampen his mood, though. He could finally help out!

**

* * *

**

Over the course of the next few days, Grimmjow had taken Ichigo to nearby convenience stores and shown him around them, so that he could go shopping himself. They were all within walking distance and Grimmjow had begun to trust that Ichigo could take care of himself. He found that out the hard way when they had gotten into a fight over whether Ichigo could really fight or not. He had finally admitted to the small memory from the doctor's office a few weeks back and had another memory of another fight in his childhood.

Upon relaying these memories, Grimmjow had snorted, saying that Ichigo couldn't hurt a fly. Ichigo had flared, insisting that he could take anyone on at any time.

That had ended with Ichigo getting a rather large bruise on his not-broken arm.

And with Grimmjow receiving a busted lip.

Needless to say, Grimmjow began to realise interesting things about Ichigo. The primary being how predominant his personality was becoming. When Ichigo had first woken up a couple of days after the incident that he was found, he was a blushing, shy boy who wanted nothing but to go back into an eternal sleep. Now, he was a fiery, defensive fighter who had no qualms about punching his savior for insulting him.

Not that Grimmjow held any grudges against him.

One quirk about Ichigo that he noticed was his use of hats. Ever since he had bought a hat for Ichigo all those weeks ago, Ichigo had kept it atop his head. He especially insisted upon wearing a hat when he went to the store for grocery shopping. He had eventually gone out and bought a few more hats for variety, getting tired of seeing the same hat on top of the man's head. It was interesting to say the least.

A week or so passed and Ichigo went back to the doctor with Grimmjow to get his cast removed and to relay his memory recovery. About the same thing happened again, with Ichigo not allowing the doctor to touch him and Grimmjow holding him down. Except, instead of holding him down so that he wouldn't run away, Grimmjow had to hold him down so that he wouldn't punch the poor doctor. The doctor had stayed far away from the orange haired amnesiac when talking to Grimmjow about what needed to be done from then on. He no longer needed prescriptions--his arm was healed, so all that was left was his memory recovery.

It was going just fine, although a bit slower than the average rate. It was a bit alarming that each memory he regained wasn't specific, though. It was always vague. He couldn't remember any words being spoken, he could never see the setting all too well, and the faces of the people involved were _blurred_. It scared him a bit, made him feel empty. As if the emptiness was inching itself up his skin and absorbing him slowly, continuing each time that he couldn't properly someones face. The doctor had assured him that it didn't require much worry, the fact that he was getting memories back was already a very positive thing. It showed that he was indeed going to regain his memories-it just might take a bit longer than predicted.

Another thing about Ichigo was that he was a fast learner. While Grimmjow was at work, Ichigo still felt sort of useless. So he began to look up housework. He popped out the laptop and began searching, quickly learning how to do basic household chores. Cleaning, folding, washing and drying dishes, doing the laundry, how to use a vacuum cleaner, the best solution to use to mop the floors, just... _everything_. He read small articles one day and was a pro the next.

Grimmjow honestly wondered how the hell he did it. He himself might fold some clothes messily one day, and the next he would be absolutely clueless on how the hell he did it. The best he knew was to read the instructions on the laundry detergent and he could work the washer and dryer. That was it. Ichigo on the other hand, became useful around the household, basically becoming a live-in maid.

There was another quirk that Grimmjow had noticed about Ichigo. This was the weirdest one about the boy yet. Ever since Ichigo had taken up the job of preparing meals for the both of them, there would be one constant difference about the kitchen. Every time Grimmjow would walk into the kitchen, he would notice the knife block turned around, where the handles were unreachable.

After noticing this a few times, he decided to experiment. What would happen if he were to turn it around again? So he turned it back to its former position, where the knife handles were protruding from the wooden block to allow access to the small blades.

The next day when he checked, it was turned back around. Grimmjow's brows furrowed. What did this mean? Why would he keep on turning it around? Deciding to experiment further, he turned the block around again, and stayed somewhere close to the kitchen to watch Ichigo's reaction.

After a few hours of loitering around, dinner time finally came, and Ichigo stepped into the kitchen. Grimmjow stood next to the kitchen doorway, watching how Ichigo reacted. At first, Ichigo didn't notice it and immediately began pulling out pots and pans and taking food items out of the fridge. When he looked up for scissors to cut open packages, however, his gaze landed on the handle-out knife block.

The effect was instantaneous. He froze from behind the island, his gaze locked onto the block. His hands began to shake and the package that he held fell to the floor. His jaw clenched and his eyes dilated as he took a couple of steps back.

Fear.

Fear was coursing through Ichigo. Outright, body-mangling, paralyzing fear. Grimmjow nearly stepped into the kitchen to ask him what was wrong, why he was shaking. He was too shocked at Ichigo's actions to connect the dots between the reaction and the knife block. Just as he had thought about stepping inside, Ichigo slowly began to make his way around the island counter, his steps, slow and unsteady. He wobbled ever so slightly, getting closer and closer to the block.

When he finally stood in front of it, he reached out a shaking hand, pausing an inch or so in front of the block. All of a sudden, his hands snapped to the sides of the block and he spun it around, snatching his hands back to his chest as though they were burned. He stepped back a couple of steps, staring at the back-turned knife block for a few moments before he shut his eyes for a moment. He opened his eyes and then turned around.

And he just walked back to the island counter and began preparing dinner. As though absolutely nothing had just happened.

Grimmjow felt goosebumps run up his skin; dread, fear and paranoia eating away at his consciousness. He stayed still and silent next to the doorway, stepping back further into the living room. He was startled, but he quickly connected the dots. Ichigo had a specific case of Aichmophobia. A massive fear of the pointed object called a 'knife'.

He kept silent about the whole ordeal, never telling Ichigo that he knew about what had happened. He just let things go about the way the were supposed to.

And it was just fine that way.

**

* * *

**

One day, as Grimmjow was stretched out on the couch, the topic of the past had come up between him and Ichigo. The orange haired man had caught sight of the rather large scar on his abdomen as his shirt had ridden up and questioned about it.

After being asked about it, Grimmjow had merely looked up and replied, "I will tell you everything you want to know about my past, including this scar, if you can tell me about yours." The comment had kind of hurt Ichigo, and he had grimaced, looking off at anything other than Grimmjow.

He murmured a small, "never mind then." He began to walk away, clutching the bottom of his shirt as a frown began to spread across his face. Seeing how upset Ichigo was, Grimmjow released a sigh and called him back.

Ichigo came back and plopped himself down in the leather chair, leaning back nonchalantly as if he didn't even care if Grimmjow was opening up to him. He watched the blue haired man expectantly, waiting for him to talk.

Grimmjow sat up and leaned against the back of the couch, frowning a bit as he watched Pantera jump into Ichigo's lap (something that she had not done willingly for him) and eagerly rub her head against his hand. Ichigo began to rub her head, massaging around the ears as she began to purr.

The blue haired man watched the cat with an irritated expression for a moment before lifting his gaze up to Ichigo's, only to have a scowl spread across his face. Ichigo was smirking victoriously.

The bastard.

"Long story short; my early life was a major piece of shit. I ended up getting pushed down stairs and had a huge chunk a broken artistic vase embedded in my abdomen. The end."

Ichigo felt a shiver run up his spine. Grimmjow was with-holding information. A great deal of it. He watched the teal-haired man for a moment, finally deciding that it was none of his business but still sympathetic nonetheless. "I'm... I'm sorry."

Grimmjow shrugged slightly. "It's fine. Everybody goes through shit sometimes. Some just more so than others." Ichigo merely shook his head and repeated himself. "I'm sorry."

The blue haired man let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair, leaning back into the leather couch as Ichigo began to calm down a bit. They sat in silence before Ichigo spoke, eager to get rid of the quiet.

"I'm... I'm a bit scared to remember my past."

Grimmjow looked up, slightly startled and curious. "What?"

"I'm scared of my memories returning. Every time something invokes nostalgia, I hear a voice in my head telling me that I can't remember yet, urging me to move along."

Grimmjow's eyes furrowed. "A voice?"

"Yeah." Ichigo fidgeted in his seat, slightly uncomfortable with the topic at hand. "It's like a conscience or something, I guess. It has a really hollow voice and always pops up whenever I feel like im going to remember something."

Grimmjow brought his hand up to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully. "Sounds strange. Kinda freaky, if ya ask me."

Ichigo scowled, a little upset at how insignificantly useful Grimmjow was. He mentioned it for two reasons. Number one, to get Grimmjow's mind off of his no-doubt horrible past, and number two, to get a second opinion on the matter to make sure he wasn't going crazy.

Number one, accomplished.

Number two, failed.

Ichigo gave an annoyed sigh. "I'm... I'm just going to go make dinner." He stood up and made his way to the kitchen, thankful to any and every god out there that his arm was no longer broken when he accidentally slammed it into the doorway. He let out a loud curse, turning around and flipping Grimmjow off when he gave a loud, barking laugh.

**

* * *

**

Later that night, when Ichigo sat on the couch, fixing to go to bed, he was absorbed deep into his thoughts. He was starting to become rather frightened. He knew that people weren't supposed to hear voices in their heads. It was abnormal. So why did he have a voice? Why did he have a voice in his head that didn't belong to _him_?

When his mind began to become fuzzy, he decided that it was time to sleep. He fell into a deep sleep and was drawn into a dream.

A dream of the past.

He was standing in the kitchen, alongside a tall woman. He was only about 9 or 10 at the time, so his eyesight only barely made it over the kitchen counter. He was affectionately talking to the woman about something--the words were unheard. As Ichigo relived the memory, he could also feel things around him, all of his senses other than his hearing seemed clear, as if it were happening in real life--but the feeling of nostalgia bumped that theory.

As the scene continued on in the dream, the sounds began to become clearer, breaking through the silence and growing in volume.

"What are you cooking..?" He could hear his younger voice ask the question as a smile spread across his younger-self's cheeks. The brown haired woman turned to him with a kind smile on her face.

"Just a simple casserole. Enchilada-style!" Her eyes squeezed shut as her smile widened when Ichigo licked his lips excitedly.

"Would you teach me how to make this? No. Teach me how to cook!" Ichigo felt his face crease into a pleading expression, his hands clasped together pleadingly. The woman laughed.

"Of course, my dear Ichigo." She pulled a stool to the counter and instructed him to step on it, handing him a wooden spoon. She guided him in how to stir it and then pulled out a large variety of spices, setting them all over the counter.

"Now look, dear. I'm going to teach you a magic trick that my mother taught me. The best way to make a dish turn out delicious is to use your nose and your tongue." She poked the tip of his nose and his lower lip, making Ichigo scrunch his face comically. The woman just laughed.

"First you have to taste it." She poured the sauce into a small bowl and pushed it his way, watching as he tipped it up to taste the sauce. He pulled the bowl away and frowned.

"It doesn't taste right." She laughed her melodic laugh again. "Exactly. Now, we have to add spices to make the magic. Smell it and then smell the spices." She did a small demonstration. "Then, put in the spices that match the smell the best." Ichigo eyed her warily, unsure of how such a thing would work. Deciding to put faith in her, he did as he was instructed.

She wouldn't let him continually taste it when he felt the need to add more spices. When they finally mixed it all together, she poured it into the bowl again, pushing it to the orange haired boy with a smile on her face. "Taste it."

He swallowed the sauce and then widened his eyes, a smile spreading across his lips. "It tastes really good!" The brown haired woman smiled. "See? Magic." She hugged Ichigo close, the young boy wrapping his arms as far around her as he could.

"Yeah. Magic. Thanks, mom."

"Now remember," she murmured in his ear. "Just because you know this trick, it doesn't mean you will be a master cook." She giggled lightly, her breath tickling his ear and causing goosebumps to raise on his neck. "You have to practice from now on. Okay?" He nodded, burying his head deeper into the folds of her shirt.

Ichigo, trapped in the small body of his past, could feel happiness swell, spreading all around him and engulfing him. His mom. His mother. He knew his mother, now. He knew her face and could remember one of his most precious moments with her.

Pulling away from Ichigo and brushing a loving hand against his cheek, she leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. "Now watch the food, okay? I have to go check on your sisters." She smiled and turned around at Ichigo's replied nod. She walked away a few steps, Ichigo still smiling whole-heartedly. When she got even further, however, he could feel dread clawing at his sides. Something was wrong.

He could feel the dream starting to continue into another scene, things beginning to pull to a different location. All of a sudden, everything froze.

His mother, the timer that had been counting down the minutes until the sauce was to finish, even the clock. Everything just stopped moving. Ichigo looked around anxiously, still trapped within his 9-year-old self's body. Everything that he could remember... was fading.

Not fading, exactly. More like... _burning_ away. Ichigo could feel fear spread through his limbs. Black was crawling into the kitchen, eating away at all surfaces. The black began to turn everything to ashes, crawling closer and closer to where he and his mother stood.

His mother.

Panic seized Ichigo. He had to save his mother. He couldn't let her suffer. He had to get her away from this. It was dangerous. She had to get away.

_Now._

He ran to his mother and began tugging on his mother's arm frantically to pull her away from the oncoming blackness. But she wouldn't budge. Time had frozen her and she couldn't move.

The blackness inched forward until it was only a few inches away from consuming his mother. And then....

Nothing.

Everything disappeared. The memory was gone. The image of his mother, the kitchen, of the oncoming danger was gone. Everything had turned to a blank white, and Ichigo found that he was in his normal, older body now. He was confused. He was about to call back on the memory when the voice from before interrupted and stopped him.

_**I'm sorry, King. But I can't let you do that. You cannot see **_**that **_**particular thing just yet.**_

Ichigo froze, focusing intensely on the voice. He could hear an echo--a water drop splashing into an even larger body of liquid. The air seemed to vibrate, ripples spreading out around his feet. He glanced down into the water that had taken up residence on the ground without his knowing, not noticing that there wasn't a reflection in the water. He crouched down, pressing his hand into the water.

"Wh..." He swallowed, pressing an urgent and wondrous question forward. "Why... who are you? Why do you exist within my mind?" He continued to stare into the water.

_**I'm here...**_

There was a pause, as though the entity were thinking of a suitable answer. All of a sudden, on the _other side of the water _a hand reached forward, pale in contrast and mirroring his own. A perfect reflection. He was finally gifted with an answer from the mysterious voice.

_**To protect you.**_

**

* * *

**

As he sat alone in the dark living room, Grimmjow's expression darkened. He listened into the receiver of his cell phone, waiting for the police to pick up so that he could finally report Ichigo as "found". The man was healed and gaining his memory back. He had no need for Grimmjow any longer.

_A voice, huh?_ He let out a sigh for what seemed the millionth time that day, sucking in a breath as a click sounded from over the line and a female voice calmly spoke.

"This is 911 services. What is the problem?" He began to rattle off the story to the woman on the other line as a thought reverberated through his mind.

_This could be a pain in the ass._

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	6. Sister

Started April 14th.

Completed April 27th.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s): **I do not own Bleach. If I did, Harribel would be a major character. She is the bomb. Though her choice of clothing is a bit iffy...

**Warnings:**

Violence

Alternate Universe

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 5**

**"Sister"**

**

* * *

  
**

The day had started simple enough. Ichigo woke up bright and early, heading straight for the shower and preparing for the morning. He took his shower, got dressed, brushed his teeth, and folded and put away his blanket. He started the classic American's breakfast--bacon and eggs, sunny-side up.

When the plates were prepared and set at the kitchen's island, he covered them up to insulate heat. He headed into Grimmjow's room, not even bothering to knock. Tip-toeing to the bedside, he slowly pulled on the blanket, trying desperately not to rouse the sleeping man as it uncovered his body inch by inch. He then began tugging on the pillow that his teal-haired head rested on, pulling it out from underneath.

When the pillow came free, he tossed it on the floor and kicked it underneath the bed, shoving the comforter under after it. He stood up from his knees and dusted imaginary dust from his stylishly faded jeans and smirked, turning his eyes back to the subject at hand.

Now came the fun part.

He quietly reached for the alarm clock, tapping the buttons as delicately as possible and setting it back in to place. He looked around the room curiously for a moment, searching desperately for something.

His eyes lit up when he found the perfect item. _Aha!_ He snatched the wrinkled and discarded tie up from the floor next to the closet and made his way back to the bed, careful not to trip over his own himself. It would ruin the fun. He slowly edged it underneath both of the still feet, quickly tying them together. He gave a devious grin, glancing back at the alarm clock. Finished just in time. Much faster than previous times, in fact.

Ichigo went back to the door and slipped out, quietly clicking it shut behind himself. He went back to the kitchen and pulled the covering off one of the plates, picking up a fork and using the side of it to cut off a chunk of egg. Just as the fork had pressed into the egg, the faint sound of an alarm began blaring from the direction of Grimmjow's room.

The brown eyes watched as the yellow yolk of the egg began to ooze and spread, but his ears were perfectly directed to the commotion happening in the bedroom. The alarm stopped after a moment and then muffled curses sounded, no doubt Grimmjow wondering where the hell his sleeping equipment had disappeared to. Then, he could easily and almost perfectly imagine in his mind's eye as Grimmjow threw his legs over the edge of the bed with a moody huff, preparing to find his comforter and pillow.

Ichigo's eyes gleamed victoriously as he heard a crash and a loud, not-so-muffled curse and felt a grin spread across his face.

Grimmjow: 1

Ichigo: 6

He hastily gobbled up the rest of his eggs and the crispy bacon, hoping to miss the sure-to-come storm. Sure enough, he heard the door slam open as he put his plate in the sink, loud stomping making its way across the living room to the kitchen. When Grimmjow walked through the kitchen door, he had a messy bed-head, the teal strands sticking up at nearly every angle possible. He had only a pair of boxers and a simple wife-beater on. What made Ichigo burst out laughing, though, was two things.

One, Grimmjow had his eye twitching, a look that said he was no-doubt contemplating on how to get back at the amnesiac.

Two, he had a nice, big red spot spread across the right side of his face, as if he had mysteriously _fallen_...

Ichigo just gave a victorious grin in the man's direction before turning back to the sink, pouring dish soap onto the plate and scrubbing it.

Grimmjow made his way to the island counter, still fuming. Finally, after a few moments, he spoke. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't toss your ass out my front door."

The orange haired man's smile merely widened as he continued to scrub the plate before turning on the water and rinsing it off. He slowly dried it and made his way to the cupboard, all the while watching Grimmjow's reaction from the corner of his eye. What he saw only made his smile impossibly wider. The man was getting absolutely ticked _off_.

After making a scene of putting the plate up, as if it required all of his attention, he finally turned his brown eyes back to the man, an amused light in their depths. He gave a slight roll of his shoulders before shrugging and smiling as innocently as possible.

"You know... I think it's a little thing called _karma_. It truly is a bitch, isn't it?" He repeated the phrase that Grimmjow had used on him weeks prior. The blue-haired man twitched as Ichigo pointed in the direction of the living room, no doubt indicating the couch.

Roughly a week ago, Grimmjow had wanted Ichigo up to cook him breakfast. He had gotten up before the amnesiac for once and absolutely had to have his meal _right then_. The last time he had tried to wake the orange haired man up (which was many weeks ago, sometime after most of the bruises from the accident had healed), he had merely tried to rouse the man to waking by shaking his shoulders lightly. Evidently, it wasn't the best thing to do. He had ended up with a fist flying in his face, landing him a nice, fat bruise across his cheek.

He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. So he had simply opted to not touch the man at all.

And tipped the couch so that the man would roll off onto the floor.

Needless to say, the man was not pleased with that and had declared a war. For the next week, he had been waking Grimmjow up in the most unorthodox and obsolete ways, making damned sure that they would annoy the hell out of Grimmjow.

First he placed the alarm clock under the pillow (which was rather effective considering the _blare_ on the damned thing. It _amazed_ Ichigo how loud the fucking thing got), he repeated the trick a couple of times due to the fact that it actually worked quite well in annoying the blue haired man and getting him out of bed.

But then Grimmjow became accustomed to it, quickly putting in time for counter measures, plugging the damned thing in a socket that was too far to reach the bed. So Ichigo began to try other methods, changing them up constantly so that he was in control.

It felt nice to be in control.

Grimmjow merely sighed, rubbing his red cheek. Things had not been going well. Ichigo seemed to be having funwith all of these wake-up calls. Although, admittedly, if he were in Ichigo's shoes, he would probably feel the same thrill.

He stared at the grinning orange-haired man before rolling his eyes, cutting into his eggs with his fork. He shoved a bite in his mouth and sent a glowered glare in Ichigo's direction, his silent message clear. _Shut up and get to work._

Ichigo nodded, the grin never fading from his face as he made his way to Grimmjow's bedroom to clean up the man's mess. Every time the man came home from work, he found some way to get his room dirty. Hence, Ichigo made it a daily habit to clean up after him in the morning. At least it would keep the roaches away.

Meanwhile, Grimmjow finished his food and dumped the plate and fork in the sink. He grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom. "Yo, Ichigo! Taking a shower! Don't blow anything up!"

He called as he closed the door behind himself.

In Grimmjow's room, the orange haired man rolled his eyes, smoothing out the wrinkled of the replaced bedding. He had been left alone in the man's apartment every day when the man went to work for a little over 5 weeks now. Why now, of all times, would he feel the need to blow something up while he was in the _shower_?

He quickly pulled out the used bedding from underneath the low bed and made his way out the door and into the laundry room. He quickly put the settings on the washer and poured in the right amount of detergent, shoving the corner of the comforter in. He shoved it in a little further, groaning when he caught sight of over half of the comforter still _outside_ of the washer. _Why_ did it have to be so hard to load a damned washer?

A loud curse erupted from his lips when he heard the chime of the doorbell and rhythmic knocking coming from the front door. He glared at the comforter, shoving the rest of it in as quickly as he could. When he finally snapped the lid shut, he breathed a sigh of relief and went to the front door, pulling it open.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

The young woman standing before him stared at him for a moment, utter bewilderment erupting across her features. She unconsciously reached up and tugged at one of the long green strands of her hair, blinking. She glanced at the Ichigo, then at the door, staring at the door number for a moment. Then she reached over into the threshold and grabbed hold of the doorknob, a smile on her face.

"I'm sorry. I believe I got the wrong place," she said in a childish voice, and she pulled the door shut on herself, leaving Ichigo in astonishment. Well... that was a little too strange for his tastes.

He had turned around and was about to walk off when someone pressed the doorbell multiple times, almost urgent, and the rhythmic knocking sounded again.

He stopped, trying to decide whether to ignore the crazy lady or hear her out. _Well_, he considered, _she could just be very... 'out-of-it'. _Deciding to humor the woman, he pulled the door open again, coming face to face with her sheepish expression.

"I'm sorry. I'm looking for Grimmjow...?" She ended it with a questioning tone, waving her hand as if searching for a word. When Ichigo continued to stare at her with a questioning eyebrow raised, she repeated herself slowly, as if she were talking to a foreign, mentally slow person. "Gur-iiiim-jooooooooooow. Wheeeereee?"

Ichigo's lips slipped into a scowl. "Good god, woman. Shut up. I'm not from a different country." The woman blinked, surprised at his ability to speak the same language as herself until his words registered in her head. "I'm _sorry_! I couldn't help it! You looked all confused and unable-to-comprehend-like when I was talking to you. And the fact that you have orange hair certainly doesn't help!"

Slightly tanned hands shot to orange hair, covering it up futilely. He drew back a bit, still scowling at the woman standing just beyond the doorway. "Yeah? Well, you're one to talk! Your hair is _green_! And _what the hell is with your voice_?!" He honestly didn't know how she could bash against his hair. Not to mention her voice was just weird. He sighed, finally deciding to keep his cool with the stranger. "Well, you just wanted to talk to--"

"Nel?" Ichigo spun around to see Grimmjow, almost completely naked if it weren't for the towel around his waist. He was rubbing his hair with a seperate towel, eyeing the green-haired woman. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The woman, presumably named Nel, gave a huge smile and spoke in her childish voice. "I was here to visit you Grimmy! How've ya been?" She brushed past Ichigo, accidently forcing him into the wall when she made a leap at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow's eyes widened as he dropped the towel, swiveling out of the woman's way just in time. Ichigo snorted as the woman made a face plant onto the floor, rubbing his head as he stepped forward. Nel stood up and smoothed the wrinkles from her simple white capris and huffed good-naturedly. "Jeez. The same as ever, Grimmjow." She pinned him with a resolute stare. Said blue haired man just shrugged and picked up the discarded towel, drying his hair once more.

Ichigo was about to make a comment when a white hot pain shot through his head. He leaned forward and hissed, clutching his head in pain. It was a quiet hiss, but Nel had heard it. She sent a curious glance his way to which he just shook his head. With a vague excuse of changing his sweaty clothes, he retreated further into the apartment and slipped into the bathroom.

He clutched the sides of the marble sink, his eyes narrowed at his reflection in the mirror. He desperately clawed at the memory trying to make itself known, pulling it to himself and making the nostalgia grow thicker. Finally, the memory enveloped him.

He remembered being in a cozy room. It was a little familiar to his future self--someplace that he had seen before.

_A shrink's office_, he realized, recalling the movies that he had recently watched with Grimmjow. It was a small room with many bookcases, a couch and a desk. A faceless man sat behind the desk, droning on and on--the words lost in the memory.

His younger self was lying on the couch, evidentally not listening or talking if the thoughts in his head were any clue.

_52 tiles... How many books..?_

He felt the body shift, turning to glance in the direction of one of the bookcases. The nameless and faceless man continued talking, absolutely no sound making its way from his lips. Everything was silent save for his younger self's thoughts until one word seemed to penetrate the quiet.

_"...knife_." Ichigo felt the smaller body of his younger self tense, muscles screaming in protest. The surroundings were becoming hazy, no doubt becoming less of an interesting subject to his previous self. After a few moments, Ichigo began to notice that his throat was starting to hurt, feeling like it was tearing itself apart.

_Screaming_, he realized. _I'm screaming_.

He vaguely registered pressure being applied to his arms and legs, realizing that he was probably being held down by the doctor. His scream grew louder and louder in volume until...

Nothing.

The memory disappeared.

Now that he was staring back in the mirror, Ichigo noticed he was glaring. He realized his younger self had probably been put to sleep and bit back a growl. Releasing a tense breath, he shut his eyes and slowly undid his grip on the sink, vaguely surprised that he hadn't put cracks in it. Noticing a hat lying on one of the counters, he snatched it up and fitted it over his orange locks.

He quickly calmed himself before stalking out of the bathroom, happening to walk in on a conversation between Grimmjow and Nel.

"How is _he_ the one?"

A shrug from Grimmjow.

"He's not even a _kid_! You told me your charge was a _kid_!!"

Grimmjow growled. "He _is_ a kid."

Nel put her hands on her hips, glaring the poor blue haired man down. "_That man_ was no _kid_. When you say you save a _kid's_ ass, most people would think 4 foot, annoying, snot-nosed brat. Not some 5'9" man who could very well be my age or even your own!" She huffed. "And now, because of that, he doesn't like me. And because of _that_, I thought I got the wrong apartment--_and you're the only one on the damned floor_!" She waved her arms dramatically.

Grimmjow shot her a look before clenching his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. "How fucking stupid..?" A loud smack resounded, an angry red welt making itself known on the blue haired man's bare arm. His teeth were clenched and his hands turned to fists as he looked up to glare at Nel, but stopped. She was pinning him with a deadly glare, _daring_ him to continue. "You had _better_ be _glad_ that you didn't finish that sentence." She slowly lowered her arm, switching out of offense mode, although she was still tense.

Ichigo cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable that he had just walked into a conversation about himself. The two quieted down, the moment broken.

Grimmjow finally had enough of the silence and excused himself with a simple "gotta go fucking change.." When the bedroom door had shut behind him, Ichigo flopped onto the couch, releasing a tired sigh.

Nel sat down on the leather couch, watching him for a moment. After Ichigo had felt the woman's eyes on him for too long, however, Ichigo looked up and snapped, "what?"

Nel stayed silent for a few moments longer, her eyes on his. She had seemed to have gone into a daze, unable to hear him. Taking advantage of the moment, Ichigo decided to observe her a little more closely.

She had a good figure and a rack that any hormonal-driven man would die to have in his possession. A sweet face, kind, foamy-green eyes, long, green hair. She seemed nice enough. But a scoff of disgust worked its way into the orange haired man's throat.

_Probably just another of his _girlfriends_._

He retreated from his thoughts when he noticed that she seemed to snap from her daze. Her green eyes lit up in excitement at information that only she knew. A smile stretched across her face, her appearance becoming even more childlike than it already was.

"I know your nick-name!" She said in a sing-song voice.

He was thrown off for a moment. "..What?" He blinked at her, wondering where the hell nick-names had come up in their silent conversation.

Nel giggled, her eyes seeming to shine even brighter. "Your nick-name!" She lifted her hand conspiratorially, cupping it around the side of her mouth and leaned forward as if she were letting him in on a big secret.

"You will now be called... _Itsugo!"_

His confusion and utter bewilderment must have shown on his face because the second the word had come out of her mouth, she had fallen to the floor in a fit of giggles. She rolled around on the floor, unable to contain her excitement, repeating his nick-name over and over.

_Great_, he thought. _The woman's a loony_.

When she had finally gotten over her fit, she wiped away tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes and stood up on shaky, unbalanced feet. "Oh, lord. That was a good one. Wasn't it, Itsugo?"

He growled at the nickname, ready to deck her when the bedroom door opened. He stepped out in black slacks and a white dress shirt, attempting to button the cuffs. Nel looked over to him and raised an eyebrow. "Whatchya wearing those clothes for?"

Grimmjow just stared at her with a 'duh' expression on his face. "For work." He headed in the direction of the kitchen only to be stopped by the woman's words. "No need, Grimmy."

He paused in the doorway, turning around and narrowing his eyes at her. "I don't like the way you said that, Nel. What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Nel just leaned back in the leather chair and found interest in her nails, observing each and every critical shape of all of her nails. She glanced over her nails innocently. "Because I called in sick for you."

Grimmjow's hands dropped from his cuffs, his expression going eerily blank. "You.. called in sick for me," he repeated, to which Nel nodded. "Why in god's name would you go and fucking do that?" His words were filled with a vile acid. The green haired woman was undeterred. "Well, it's not every day you have a chance to be with me." She continued the observation of her nails.

Ichigo watched as Grimmjow's hands curled into tight fists. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't toss your ass out of my front door." Ichigo grinned at the familiar words that he had heard only earlier that day.

When the words were spoken however, it was like a trigger. Nel's innocent smile faded into a knowing one as she reached into her pocket and pulled out 3 slips of paper. "Because I've got tickets to a _certain_ art-show that a _certain_ blue haired man had been wanting to see for _quite_ the amount of time." She grinned at him, absolutely no traces of fear.

She got exactly the reaction she wanted. Grimmjow's eyes lit up and his fists relaxed as he cleared his throat. "Oh, well..." She could almost imagine a pink tinge across the man's cheeks. Too bad that was impossible. "I suppose that it's alright, then..." His eyes flashed momentarily as he regarded her. "But if you do that again I will make _sure_ that you regret it."

She nodded, a smile still stretched across her features. "Yes, yes. Of course. What else would I expect from you?" He grunted, eyeing the tickets in her hand. "So... when are the tickets for?"

Nel blinked before nodding, glancing at the confused Ichigo and then at the clock hung above their heads. "Well, I would say..." she brought her gaze back to Grimmjow.

"Well... in a little less than half an hour." She smiled widely, her eyes shutting with glee, missing the look of pure wrath that took residence on the man's face. When she opened her eyes she was met with a blue-eyed glare and brown eyes full of laughter and amusement.

Oh, yes. She just knew her and the little amnesiac would get along _fantastically_.

**

* * *

**

Ichigo yanked the car door open and hastily stumbled out, dramatically falling to his knees. He ran his fingers through the thick, lush, manicured grass, never realizing how thankful he was for land. The orange haired man was _so_ grateful that the car ride was over, that he was out of that small car and on rock-hard, solid _ground_.

There were two things that had made the car ride absolutely excruciating. The first was a classic--Grimmjow had driven like a maniac. Ichigo had seen him drive that way before, but... this time it was just insane. You could definitely tell that he wanted to be _on time _to the damned art show.

The second reason was the car itself. Nothing in particular was wrong with it--it was a gorgeous car (Porsche Boxster, for god's sake!)... but there was a bit of an impasse. The car was a _two-seater_. Meaning only _two_ seats for only _two_ people. There were _three_ people trying to get in the car. Now, normally, most people would think of putting Grimmjow in the driver's seat, Ichigo in the passenger's and Nel in his lap.

Simple and logical, no?

No.

Nel had slipped into the passenger seat and then turned to him with a wide smile on her face, patting her lap and saying, "come on, Itsugo! Get in." So it had ended up with Grimmjow driving, Nel in the passenger seat and Ichigo in her lap. Needless to say, it was majorly uncomfortable to be sitting in the lap of a woman (who was _smaller_ than him) and feeling her freakishly-large bust pressing into his back.

The green haired woman stepped out of the vehicle, shutting the door behind herself before she walked over and stood behind Ichigo, sitting on her haunches. She patted his back, not noticing his slight stiffening as she smiled widely. "There, there, Itsugo. I know he drives like a maniac, but you'll get used to it! I promise." Her smile grew in size as Ichigo scowled at the nickname before she stood back up and turned to Grimmjow who now stood behind her.

"Let's go?" she asked, her smile still intact. Grimmjow just shook his head and walked past her, pausing next to Ichigo's form dramatically sprawled on the grass before he clenched his jaw and strode to the building. Nel watched with knowing eyes the whole time.

She held her hand out to help Ichigo up and was ignored as he stood on his own. She didn't particularly mind and just tilted her head in the direction of the building that Grimmjow had disappeared into before saying, "come on." She tugged on his shirt sleeve, pulling him to the massive, modern building.

After walking through the glass doors, they stopped at the front counter, next to which Grimmjow stood with a scowl on his face. His arms were crossed as he tapped his foot impatiently, sending Nel a look before throwing his head in the direction of the receptionist. The green haired woman ignored the pointed demand and took her time in taking the tickets out of her purse, shuffling between the little items inside before she finally pulled them out.

As the blue haired man's scowl grew fiercer by the moment, Nel could hear Ichigo laughing quietly into his hand behind her and smiled, handing the tickets to the receptionist. The moment that the paper slips were in the man's hands, Grimmjow had delved further into the building, leaving Ichigo and Nel behind.

As Ichigo followed the green haired woman inside at a slower pace, he sent a curious look at Grimmjow's back that was slowly growing smaller and smaller. "Hey, why is he in such a hurry to be here and stuff? I mean, I know he already drives like an absolute drunkard, but... that was just crazy!"

Nel merely laughed at the comment, glancing at the first artwork along the wall. As her eyes traced the bold lines, she said, "well, he doesn't really like to admit it, but he has an absolute addiction to art. He loves it." At this, Ichigo's eyebrows rose in surprise. He really couldn't see Grimmjow as the artsy type. Seeing his expression, Nel laughed and sent a knowing glance his way. "I know--he doesn't really fit the bill, does he?" She lead him to the sculpture sitting in the center of the room, pointing out small details of the piece.

As they went through many different galleries, they lapsed into silence, comfortably observing each intruiging piece of artwork that was presented. The two came to a piece that lit a fire in Ichigo's limbs. Ironically, it was entitled 'Memories'. It showed a child sitting at a dining room chair, a flower clutched in his hand as he seemed to animatedly talk to the young girl on the floor, petting a dog. It had amazingly precise details, each grain shown in the wood of the table--even the carved etching of a heart in the surface of the wood.

Ichigo was drawn to the artwork, all of his senses entirely focused on the painting. He could almost feel the prickling sensation of a memory making it's way back to the surface before a penetrating thought silenced it. Where was Grimmjow?

His eyes abruptly snapped from the picture, turning around and scanning the room around him. When he caught no sight of shock-blue hair, he frowned, stepping to the next room when a hand caught his arm in the doorway. He looked back and saw Nel, an embarassed and apologetic expression crossing his face having totally forgotten about her. She didn't say anything and just followed along behind him, glancing at the paintings and sketches that they passed.

When his mind began to go into overdrive, a curious thought entered his mind and he paused. Catching Nel off guard, he stumbled forward a bit when she bumped into him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Itsugo! I didn't know you had stopped!" she apologized.

Ignoring both the use of the nick-name and her apology, he asked, "Hey Nel... just out of curiousity... are you Grimmjow's girlfriend?" Nel seemed to have frozen on the spot, her eyes wide and dilated. He almost started to panic until she hunched over and began to laugh loudly, clutching at her stomach. He just watched her, unable to understand what was so funny. After a few moments, he began to get frustrated and scowled. Why was he being laughed at?

Finally, the green haired woman straightened up, wiping stray tears from the corner of her eye. "Girlfriend, he says..." she let out an abrupt chuckle. "Oh lord, no. That would be _incest_. Grimmjow and I are siblings. He's my brother."

Ichigo never felt his jaw drop. All he knew was... that was not what he was expecting. After a while, though, he felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards. He didn't know why, but... he almost felt _happy_ about the new revelation. Nel smiled at his reaction, tugging on the end of his sleeve. "Well, come on. Let's go find my dear brother."

When they finally found the man, he had insisted (very subtly) on viewing more of the art, causing them to leave later on in the afternoon. Dusk was approaching at a rapid rate as they piled into the car, Nel insistent upon the same seating arrangements. When the woman began to insist upon eating out, they pulled into a diner and occupied a booth, Ichigo clutching onto the sketchbook that Grimmjow had given him. Only a few pages remained and he wanted desperately to save them.

As the trio ordered (Grimmjow ordering something for Ichigo) the orange haired man began to draw on a blank page, lost in his thoughts and not even knowing what exactly he was drawing. When Nel leaned over and let out a strange sound of confusion however, he snapped out of his trance and glanced down, groaning at the sight that met him.

Grimmjow leaned over, wondering what the problem was and quirked a brow. "Drawing clothes? What the hell are you drawing clothes for?" Ichigo buried his face in his hands and let out another groan, the pencil dropping to the tabletop with a quiet smack. "I don't know." The answer came out a bit muffled, the words blocked by his hands. He lifted his face from his palms and stared unseeingly at the drawing. "It seems to be a fall-back for me. When I don't know what to draw, I end up drawing random clothes, designing them..." A scowl crossed his face. "I don't even want to draw clothes. It's more like something of a... _habit_."

Nel shrugged slightly. "It could have been something from before you had amnesia. Maybe you had a project in college for designing or something..." Her eyes lit up at the possibilities that crossed her mind. "A designer! You were _definitely_ a designer."

Ichigo rolled his eyes at the proclamation. "Why would I be something that I don't enjoy?" The woman visibly faltered, a little disheartened. "Well, yeah, I suppose that's true..." Grimmjow had stayed silent and watched the orange haired man, desperately trying to unravel the mystery named 'Ichigo'.

**XXXXXXXXX**

When they returned that night, Ichigo had immediately plopped himself down on the leather chair, claiming it as his bed for the night (as Nel had declared that she was staying the night with her 'beloved brother'). Nel and Grimmjow had disappeared into the kitchen (no doubt to bicker about the food fight that Nel had initiated at the diner) and Ichigo decided to use this time to immerse himself in his drawings.

Minutes (hours?) later, Nel had made her way back into the living room and stopped behind the chair, a gasp escaping her lips. Grimmjow, having followed her into the room, walked up beside her and stopped, glancing over the amnesiac's shoulder. His eyes widened in pleasant surprise, wondering how the hell the man he had saved was so _talented_.

The whole page was a sketch, very detailed by the time they set their eyes on it. It was a picture of a young boy in a chair, clutching a flower in his hand... Nel practically melted. It was almost an exact replica of the painting that they had viewed earlier, with minor differences in the background and style. Nel leaned back on her heels and whispered, "he's amazing...!" She glanced at Grimmjow, noticing his eyes were no longer on the sketch, but the _man_ drawing it.

She gave a knowing smile and disappeared into the kitchen, tidying up as much as she could. When she returned to the living room, the sketchbook was lying on the coffee table, Ichigo was staring at nothing in particular, and Grimmjow was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Grimmjow?" Her quiet, naturally childish voice startled Ichigo, making him jolt. He turned in her direction and released a pent up breath. "Went to go take a shower. Kept muttering about amnesiacs and sisters chunking spoonfuls of mashed potatoes." He snickered, a content smile settling on his face. She laughed along with him, easing into the quiet silence that followed.

She broke the silence with a curious, yet serious question. "Did... did Grimmjow ever tell you the story behind his scar?" Ichigo looked up from staring at the cat prancing into the kitchen. He knew that this was a sensitive topic for both of the siblings, sensing the tension that surrounded the two of them every time it came up.

"He.." he paused, forming his words delicately. "He said something about a bad past and a vase...?" Nel smiled softly, watching the man with awe. "So he told you the truth.." When Ichigo sent her a confused glance, she chuckled and replied, "well, he usually tells some kind of lie. Usually some kind of epic story. He doesn't like people to know about something so personal... and he claims that he would rather it be where he kicked major ass rather than... as he put it 'a sad sob story of the past'." Her eyes lit up as she regarded the confused man before her, positively ecstatic at the newly found information. "He trusts you..." she whispered to herself.

Ichigo just watched her, confusion and curiosity rolling off of him in waves. What.. what exactly happened to give him the scar? He immediately stiffled the question, telling himself it wasn't his place to know. Nel watched his internal struggle and offered another kind smile. "It's okay if you want to know. I'll tell you. I'm..." If anything, her smile only softened further. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind _you_ knowing." Ichigo missed the emphasis on the word 'you', only nodding for her to continue. It was now or never. Knowing Grimmjow, he would never tell him the whole story.

Nel looked past him, focusing on nothing in particular and immediately delved into the story. "He's never known his father. The excuse that we were always told was that he died in minor war years back." She glanced up and caught Ichigo's gaze, the orange haired man's eyebrows furrowed and a frown across his face.

"Mom wasn't really around much for him. She was always out god-knows-where for massive amounts of time, usually around a week before she returned home. Although it was rather irregular. The shortest amount of time that she disappeared was maybe two days. The longest..." she paused, thinking a little bit harder. "I think he said was about 10 months." Ichigo's eyes widened, wondering what the hell Grimmjow's mother had been doing and how she could abandon her own child for such a ridiculous amount of time.

She continued on, disregarding Ichigo's own mental struggle. "Evidently, she had gone off and gotten pregnant with another man and married him. It was quite a surprise to have her come home with a ring on her finger. A rather expensive one, at that. They were always rather poor, so it automatically rose questions. He kept questioning her and pestering her about it for a couple of weeks before she finally caved. She said that he was going to meet his new father."

Nel blew out a rough sigh, clearing her throat a bit. "When they met, the man was rather nice. He was only nine or ten at the time, so he was still naive, even if he did know the harsher sides of life. He never suspected that he was just out to get their money..."

Ichigo sent a confused glance his way. "But you said..."

"That they were poor? Yeah. They were. Or at least, they thought they were. It turned out that a relative of his father's had died and was looking for them to give them the inheritance. Would have inherited roughly half a million dollars." She gave an unenthusiastic laugh. "But only mom and him didn't know about it. It continued on... she had her baby--me, and we continued on in life.

"After a while, however. The man, my father had started to become different. He became angry that we weren't given the money-they had given up on finding us. At first he just disliked Grimmjow. It was really subtle. He wasn't allowed to go out with friends on the weekends, wasn't allowed to have anything special at home... simple things that nobody would suspect. But then it grew into hatred. He slapped him whenever he disagreed with him, never let him see me or mom..." Her face had become expressionless by now.

"Eventually... he turned mom, the only person whom he felt he had left-even if she wasn't there for him much-against Grimmjow. She began to beat him whenever she got the chance by using little excuses. Grimmjow eventually distanced himself from them and became a delinquent, skipping school and getting terrible grades. Getting into fights, hurting teachers..." She trailed off, a frown marring her face.

"One day, Grimmjow walked me home, and when we came in, mom had gotten on to his case about something from school, even though she had never paid attention to it before. So he ended up talking back to her. She got really pissed off and Grimmjow walked out of the house to go cool off. He came back sometime after midnight... but..." Her eyes grew distant, a saddened haze covering her vision. "She had evidently been waiting for brother, because when he got to the top of the stairs and turned around to check the lights... she pushed him down them."

Ichigo's eyes had grown wide, a horrified look painting his face. "At the bottom," Nel continued, "there was one of those artistic vases, the large ones that are really thick... he fell on that and a huge chunk got embedded in his abdomen." She poked her stomach as if the incident had happened to herself and still felt phantom touches on the scar.

"He stumbled out of the house and into an alley... that's where Ulquiorra found him." Ichigo cast a questioning glance at Nel for her to elaborate. "Ulquiorra was another delinquent. Not exactly the fighter type, although he could kick ass when he wanted to, but more like the quiet one that skipped school a lot. He took Grimmjow to the hospital and got him fixed up. Then he called some of those government people.. CPS? on mom and dad and eventually we were free from them. I think he works with Grimmjow..." She trailed off before shrugging slightly. "Anyways, we ended up staying with Ulquiorra until Grimmjow became an adult a few years later and then we moved out and brother took custody of me." She stared at her hands in her lap, a small smile tugging on her lips.

She looked up from staring at the leather of the couch at Ichigo, surprised by what she saw. Ichigo was shaking slightly, tears glistening in his eyes. "I'm sorry." He sniffed, shutting his eyes and trying to brush away the evidence of his caring, brushing away the traitor tears.

Nel smiled kindly, reaching forward and brushing her hand against his arm. "Don't be sorry. The two of us went through a lot, but... it's made us who we are today. I won't deny it--it's been really hard..." Her smile became that of pure joy, her eyes shining with gratitude. "I'm just glad that Grimmjow found someone who cares about him. He's been through a lot and has never really gotten along well with people. You're different. I'm grateful that he found you."

He never noticed Grimmjow cross the threshold, heading in the direction of the front door clad only in boxers. Ichigo couldn't understand what she meant. Why would finding him be a good thing? He was a useless leech who was quite possibly insane with a voice in his head and only sucked up time and money. He was already struggling to help the blue haired man out. How could she say that he was a good thing for the man? Despite his confusion, he nodded, standing up from his stool. He nodded slightly in the woman's direction before heading out of the kitchen. He paused outside of the doorway, contemplating what Grimmjow's sister had said.

His thoughts were interrupted by loud voices coming from the front door. Curious, he decided to check things out.

Ichigo shuffled away from the kitchen doorway and stopped behind Grimmjow. "Who are you bickering with?" He peered out from behind the blue haired man's frame to see. When he saw a short, black-haired woman, however, he froze, faint memories flashing through his head as a name fell to his lips.

He made a choking sound before her name rode on his exhaled breath.

"Rukia..?"

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	7. Friend

Started April 28th.

Completed May 8th.

**Authoress: **Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s): **I do not own Bleach. If I did, Ulquiorra wouldn't have... -coughs- Sorry, sorry. That's a spoiler.

**Warnings:**

Violence

Alternate Universe

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 6**

**"Friend"**

**

* * *

  
**

The three of them sat in silence, the light of the sunrise having long spread over the horizon outside of the apartment. Grimmjow leaned back on his hands, the floor becoming increasingly painful to sit on.

Nel eyed the glass of water left sitting on the table overnight, eager for any possible way to get out of the current situation. She really wasn't any part of this--she just happened to be here when things came to a clash. She looked over her shoulder from her spot on the floor across from Grimmjow, checking on the sleeping form on the couch for what seemed the millionth time.

Ichigo's breathing had evened out rather quickly, forced into the realm of dreams. It was rather odd to see such a quiet side of him. While Nel had seen his usually-hidden quiet sides, she somehow instinctively knew that he was a withdrawn yet hot-headed man at his best. It just seemed to fit him.

She really wanted to sigh, though. She turned her gaze back across the coffee table, eyes locking with Grimmjow's before she glanced at the woman seated in the leather chair. She knew things had become complicated many times over the moment that this woman had made her appearance. But, somehow Nel felt that this would also bring finality. The young green haired woman just knew it.

Things will progress much further because of this meeting.

The black haired young woman cleared her throat and shifted, eyeing the orange hair that poked out from underneath the blanket on the couch. She turned to Grimmjow with a delicate eyebrow lifted, her expression oozing self confidence and ease. "Was it really necessary to give him sleeping medication?"

Grimmjow just smirked and shrugged. When things had become a bit hectic after Rukia walked through the door, Grimmjow had his sister slip into the kitchen to get a glass of water for Ichigo to cool down. The blue haired man had taken the new arrival god-knows-where while the amnesiac impatiently tapped his foot, waiting on the couch for Grimmjow to bring the woman back. He was a bit twitchy, snatching the glass of water from Nel's hands when she offered it to him. When Ichigo had taken a drink of the water, however, he never suspected that a few sleeping pills had been slipped in the water and was knocked out within the next two minutes. Nel had quickly thrown a blanket over him as Grimmjow and Rukia exited the bathroom, a hushed argument taking place. When Nel quickly shushed them, they sat around the coffee table, one-third of the people eager to start the conversation and the other two-thirds more reluctant.

It took a little over 5 minutes to convince the woman to wait for the story that was to be told. She was promised a full report of Ichigo's stay with them from day 1 the moment that she woke up in the morning. Thus, Ichigo ended up collapsed on the couch, Rukia snuggled up on the leather chair and Nel camped out on the floor. Grimmjow, of course, slept in his bed, insistent upon relinquishing it to none.

"Well, he had a long day," Nel supplied, sending the woman a kind smile before sending a quick glare in Grimmjow's direction. "We've been at an art exhibit for hours and came home after having dinner. I imagine he was already quite tired. It must have been quite the shock to have gained back some memories after seeing you..."

Rukia's eyes widened as she focused her full attention on Nel. "'Gained back memories'... you mean he has amnesia?" Nel stared at her for a moment before nodding in confirmation. "Yes, a lot had happened before my brother brought him home and had him looked at by a doctor..." She glanced at her blue haired brother, eyes scrunching in concentration. "I do believe you said it was Szayel who looked at him, right? You could call him over to explain some things..."

Grimmjow wanted nothing more than to groan. Yes, of course his sister would make things even more complicated than they needed to be. He was about to refuse when he glanced at the raven haired woman comfortably lounging in the leather chair, a challenging glare aimed in his direction. He stared at her for a moment, sighing in defeat as he finally conceded. "Alright, I'll call. But he's probably at work."

While the man stood and pulled out his phone, making his way to the kitchen, Nel smiled at Rukia kindly. "You must have been rather upset being unable to find Ichigo for so long.." Rukia just nodded, shifting in her seat silently as she stared out the large window. She was quiet for a few moments before she spoke. "Yes... we have been looking for him for over a month. We were about to give up..." Rukia seemed to be in a whole different world, her eyes seeing different surroundings. She continued to stare outside before turning her gaze on Nel. "We didn't really know what to think when we heard the report of an orange haired man being found. We didn't listen to the rest of the report and just started packing up to come here."

Nel raised an eyebrow slightly. "We..? Meaning..." Black hair fell out of place as Rukia nodded, focusing her gaze on partially visible orange hair. "Yes. Ichigo's family and our circle of friends. I called his father and sisters along with some of our friends to let them know that it was really Ichigo. They're on their way as we speak." Nel almost wanted to twitch. The woman didn't even stop to think that maybe her brother didn't want a bunch of people here. But... she supposed she could understand. After all, they had probably been worried sick about him, wondering if Ichigo was even alive.

On the couch, the bundle of blankets stirred, a deep breath being inhaled as Ichigo turned onto his back and his arm came to rest on his forehead. Nel blew out a laugh as she observed him for a moment, turning her attention back to their visitor.

Grimmjow entered the room once more, flipping his cell phone shut with a sigh. Running a hand through electric blue hair, he flopped onto the ground opposite of his sister, glancing at the knocked-out man on his couch. A blue eyebrow raised as he eyed the man, his lips quirking up in a smile. "The fucker really does know how to sleep, eh?"

In her spot on the chair, Rukia puffed up in displeasure at Grimmjow's vulgar language about her friend. She glared at him for a moment before deciding to brush it off and instead asked, "So? Is that doctor of yours going to make an appearance?"

The man in question merely rolled his eyes and leaned back on his palms, stretching his legs out. He rolled his neck, sighing in satisfaction as it gave a loud pop before finally directing his attention to the stout woman occupying his chair. "Yes. The man is going to be here shortly. Luckily, he applied for vacation leave all of this week, so he was actually free."

Rukia nodded, satisfied with his answer. It was a lot better than what she expected, actually. She thought he would have injected a lot more swear words than necessary, so it was nice to know that the man wasn't _constantly_ spewing out vulgar language. After all, while Ichigo himself (in his pre-amnesia state) said his fair share of swear words, she didn't want him to be constantly exposed to such a... _large_ amount of it. The trio sat in comfortable silence, waiting for the doctor to arrive, each left to their own individual thoughts.

They were each glancing off at some random object in the room when the doorbell rang, causing both Rukia and Nel to flinch. Grimmjow stood up from his position, subconsciously smoothing the wrinkles from his pants and making his way to the door. The two women stayed in their positions, focusing their ears on the commotion at the door. When a male voice (that Nel didn't recognize) filtered through, the black haired woman had abruptly stood up. While Nel had thought that Rukia had intended to make her way to the door to greet the unknown man, she was rather surprised when the woman had instead made her way to a position between the couch and the front door. The small woman hunkered down slightly, pulling herself into a defensive position, eyeing the doorway to the hall that lead to the front door.

Before Nel had time to wonder on the strange action, a loud call of "_Ichigo_!!" in a rough, masculine voice was made, a flash of material blurring from the entrance and darting for the couch. Rukia made a quick movement, sending the attacker to the floor with a loud grunt. The green haired woman's eyes were wide in confused surprise as she finally leaned up on her knees and glanced at the lump on the floor in front of Rukia. The man pulled himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his brown-haired head as he pouted at the woman in front of him.

"Now that was no fair, Rukia. I really just wanted to see my beloved Ichigo!" He made his way to a standing position, attempting to side-step the woman in front of him, only to frown as she stepped in his way once more. "No. He's asleep. Let him have some rest." She gave him a light glare, making his frown deepen as he looked over her shoulder. He allowed an uncharacteristic fatherly smile slip on to his face as he watched his son sleep. "Alright, then." He then turned and looked about the room curiously before spying Nel in wide-eyed shock on the floor. He gave a childish smile full of glee and skipped over to her, introducing himself as Ichigo's father as he plopped himself onto the floor. Rukia had already made her way back to the leather chair, deeming her friend's slumber safe. Two young women, teenagers presumably, entered from the doorway with Grimmjow behind them, making their way directly to Ichigo's side.

The black haired girl poked his cheek, staring intently at his face before pulling back with a smile. She silently made her way to her father's side and plopped down as her sister automatically sat on the floor next to Ichigo. The brown haired girl slowly sank into a sitting position, keeping a hand on Ichigo's leg as she gazed at him as if she couldn't believe that he was actually there--that he was actually _alive_.

Grimmjow watched the whole exchange of the two girls in silence from the doorway, turning and making his way back to the door when a series of knocks sounded. After a few hushed moments, the blue haired man re-entered with two other men in tow. Nel glanced up and waved at the two men, one lazily flicking his hand in her direction while the other merely dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. The pink haired man that had just entered headed directly to the kitchen, coming back out with a stool and dragging it to the wall across from the couch. The black haired man quietly leaned against the wall and closed his green eyes, blocking the conversation out.

As soon as Aporro had sat down, he had begun to speak to the group around him. "Alright, so first, I suppose, we should have some introductions. It wouldn't do for us to merely talk and not know each other."

The man who had been blocked by Rukia introduced himself as Kurosaki Isshin, father of Ichigo. The two girls proclaimed themselves as his daughters (much to the chagrin of the black haired girl) and sisters of Ichigo--the brown haired girl known as Yuzu and the black haired as Karin. Rukia turned to the two newest arrivals and told them her full name--Kuchiki Rukia, friend of Ichigo. Nel and Grimmjow introduced themselves to Ichigo's family, now waiting for the pink haired man to continue.

"Okay then," Aporro began. "I am Szayel Aporro, coworker of Grimmjow's and also the doctor who patched up the little strawberry over there." He pointed at the couch. "This here is Ulquiorra Cifer." He jabbed a thumb to the quiet man beside him, his thin arms folded over his chest. "Friend of Grimmjow's and coworker of ours. He just happened to be over when the sour man called." Grimmjow rolled his eyes at the negative comment directed at him, letting it pass.

Szayel smirked, feeling victorious with the jab as he nodded in the blue eyed man's direction. "I suppose it would be best for you to start, _monsieur_."

Said man let out a quiet sigh, sitting in an empty space on the floor a ways away from the coffee table. He began to recount how he met Ichigo in a detailed manner, handing the reigns over to Szayel when it came to the medical mumbo-jumbo. He noticed how Ichigo's father seemed to pale as the pink haired man relayed all of the amnesiac's injuries from the incident, his jaw clenching uncomfortably. After Szayel finished with his part, Grimmjow picked up where he had left off, explaining the doctor's visit and his progress over the few months that he had been with Ichigo. When they finally finished, Grimmjow leaned back, releasing a long exhale of breath and slouching. To recount things in such detail had been such a pain in the ass for him--it had taken nearly two hours. He was actually starting to become a little worried. Ichigo still hadn't woken up.

He glanced at the seemingly-comatose man on the couch, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took in and released. Nel noticed the look and aimed a knowing smirk in his direction, wriggling her eyebrows at Szayel. He raised an eyebrow before he followed Nel's gaze and noticed the heated glance that Grimmjow was sending the sleeping Ichigo. He gave a quiet laugh before speaking up. "Don't worry. He'll wake up soon." Grimmjow's eyes snapped to Szayel's, his mouth quirking into a frown when he noticed the 'blackmail-smile' upon the man's face.

Pointedly ignoring the man, Grimmjow turned to the small family gathered around the coffee table. He paused for a moment, gathering his curiosity and forming it into a question. "What exactly is going to happen... from here on out?"

Isshin tilted his head, scratching at his prickly chin, his eyes narrowing in question. "What exactly do you mean? I'm going to take my boy home, of course." Grimmjow wanted to laugh at himself. Why did he ask that? He already knew that this would happen. He knew that when he put in the report for 'a man with orange hair, brown eyes, by the name of Ichigo'. He knew that his family or friends would hear and come to get him--to take him home where he belonged. So why did he want Ichigo's family to leave? Why did he want to keep Ichigo here?

Why did he want Ichigo to stay by his side?

_Shit, man_. Grimmjow thought to himself. _Things have progressed way too far_. The blue haired man growled to himself, upset with his weakness and attachment to a person that he barely even knew. It was practically comical to him.

Electric blue eyes shut as Grimmjow nodded at the answer, putting on a pleased facade. On the outside, he seemed to happy that he was finally getting rid of the amnesiac--of a nuisance. On the inside, however, it hurt a bit. He knew that it would be much worse when Ichigo finally walked out the door, never to come back. He enjoyed being around Ichigo--teasing him, talking with him, fighting with him, being with him in general. His stomach was doing flops in his abdomen, and he didn't like it. But... he couldn't keep the man from his family. They loved him, and he had a right to be with his loved ones--whether he remembered them or not.

He growled under his breath again after realizing the direction his thoughts had taken him. Shaking his head slightly, he told himself to stop being such an emotional bitch--that he could live without anybody he so wished. He ignored the nagging voice that told him that he didn't _want_ to live without Ichigo.

He was knocked out of his thoughts just as the rest of the rooms occupants were knocked out of their light chatter as the form on the couch shifted and yawned. The blanket rustled and slipped down to Ichigo's knees as he sat up, his eyes bleary. He stared at the door across the room for a moment before turning and planting his feet on the ground, stretching his arms above his head and scrunching his eyes shut. When he reopened them, his vision was much clearer, causing him to freeze when he saw seven pairs of eyes watching him. (Oddly enough, the seventh pair of eyes didn't belong to that of Ulquiorra but rather Pantera, who was only following the gaze of the majority of the humans in the room.) He automatically snatched up the hat at the end of the couch, quickly fitting it over his head and then going still.

After a tense silence, Grimmjow finally said, "So, you finally decided to join the living, huh?" Chocolate brown eyes snapped to that of electric blue, a light, hazy glare staring Grimmjow down. Ichigo finally looked up and glanced to Nel, who smiled and said a small 'good morning' before he turned his attention to the black haired woman, sitting rigid in shock on the leather chair. He watched her for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration as he struggled to pull back the faint memories that he knew he had experienced the day prior.

"...Rukia." Said woman's eyes widened, bringing her hand up to point at herself comically. "You can remember me?" Ichigo nodded, a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips. "Yes, you are my.. friend right? We knew each other since high school..?" He ended the sentence as a question, cautiously throwing the information out. He was relieved as he saw the woman bob her head up and down enthusiastically, a wide grin stretching across her face. "That's right!!"

He continued to watch her for a few more moments before glancing around the room a bit. When his gaze stopped on the group of three, gathered around the coffee table and closest to his feet. A tall man with dark brown hair and grey-black eyes. Two young women--one with black hair and grey-black eyes and another with light brown hair and dark brown eyes, but very similar facial features. _Twins_, his mind supplied. _These two are twins, my-_-

"Sisters. Karin and Yuzu." The names felt a bit odd on his tongue, as if he were saying them with an accent when he wasn't supposed to. The brown haired girl, Yuzu, teared up almost instantly, scooting toward her brother and hooking an arm around his leg. She buried her head in the fabric of his pant leg, murmuring his name over and over, thanking every god there was that he was alive and well and merely smirked, her stance becoming much more relaxed as she pulled her baseball cap lower and leaned back onto her palms, shutting her eyes happily. Nel and Rukia laughed to themselves, glad that Ichigo was getting his memory back. Grimmjow's mouth tugged into a frown, a little unnerved at what he knew was to come.

The smile that had been tugging at the corners of his lips tugged downward when Ichigo turned his eyes to the man beside his sisters. He stared at the man, becoming a touch worried. For some reason, he had a tad of a foreboding feeling about remembering his relationship with this man--let alone speaking it aloud. His eyebrows furrowed, he continued contemplating, trying to decide whether to let the relationship grace his lips or to skip over him completely. He fought the urge to sigh, deciding to give the frowning, hopeful face of the man a rest.

"Dad." The reaction was almost instantaneous. His father's eyes had begun to tear up, his mouth quirking up into a large grin as he flung his arms out and leaped for Ichigo. Surprisingly enough (to Ichigo) his hand automatically curled up in a fist, lightly punching his father away from him as he subconsciously scooted sideways on the couch. As Isshin fell to the ground, moaning about how happy he was that his son was okay, Ichigo blinked down at his fist. _Ah. Now I remember. He's always been like this... hasn't he? _A flash of memories spread throughout him, warming him with their abundance. He was slowly coming to know who he was, and was even closer to finding out the secret about himself--about his past.

He could sense it.

When the group had finished laughing over the exchange between father and son (all except for Grimmjow, Ulquiorra and Karin), Rukia and his family had joined him on the couch, animatedly talking to him and asking him about the memories that he had gained back. Grimmjow, Nel, Ulquiorra and Szayel slipped off to the kitchen to give the newly reunited group their privacy. They stayed in there for a few hours, Grimmjow smoking cigarettes and staring off into space while the other three sipped on beers.

Around 7 o' clock at night, Ichigo walked into the kitchen, rolling his head and popping his neck, pulling open the fridge. The 4 occupants in the room watched him curiously as he pulled out a handful of items, scooting the beer cans on the kitchen island over and dropping pre-sliced vegetable packets and herbs onto it. While Szayel and Nel frowned at the oddity of the pre-sliced veggies, Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow at him as he put a large pot of water on the stove and turned on the fire. Ichigo met Grimmjow's look and shrugged before speaking. "Can't exactly let this large mass of people starve, can I?" Grimmjow wanted to grin at Ichigo's words, the thought of his soon-to-be-absence disappearing from his mind. Ichigo began to open the vegetable packet, glancing at the pink haired man seated on the opposite side of the counter.

"So... who are you?" Ichigo narrowed his eyes curiously at Aporro. The man chuckled, taking a sip of his beer before setting it noisily on the counter. "My name is Szayel Aporro. I work with Grimmjow and I'm the one who patched you up you're first night here." Ichigo's eyes widened ever so slightly, observing the man in front of him. He glanced down at the vegetables that he was pouring into a bowl (so that none of them fell out) before glancing back at the doctor and dipping his head. "Thanks. I suppose I owe my life to you," he said with a small smirk. Szayel laughed in response.

Ichigo quirked his head in the quiet green-eyed man's direction, where he was leaning up against the far wall of the kitchen with his eyes closed and arms crossed. "Who's that?" Grimmjow turned and glanced at the mention of the man, turning back to Ichigo. "That's Ulquiorra. A friend and coworker." Ichigo's eyes widened and before he could stop himself, he said, "Oh, _that_ Ulquiorra?"

Grimmjow watched him with a calculating look for a moment, causing Ichigo to have the urge to cringe away from his gaze. He probably shouldn't have revealed that he knew. After a few moments though, the blue haired man glanced at Nel and blew out a sigh. He turned back to Ichigo and rolled his eyes. "Chill. Don't worry about it, dumb-ass. It's okay for you to know." Ichigo slightly smiled, happy that Grimmjow had just accepted Ichigo's involvement with the man's past. In her spot on the stool at the end of the counter, Nel smiled deviously, feeling victorious. So the man _did_ trust the amnesiac. Usually, he would have spazzed if she revealed information about his past.

As the small bubbles began to surface on the water, the front door was heard shutting, chattering heard outside the room. Rukia stalked into the kitchen holding grocery bags high above her head with a wide, childish smile on her face. "I bring... _meat_!" She put the bags on the floor, pulling out a whole chicken and handing it off to Ichigo who had automatically begun the process of cleaning and de-boning to put into the now-boiling water. Isshin waltzed into the kitchen and glanced around, his eyes growing wide in pure happiness when he spied the vegetables spread across the island counter. "My beloved son is cooking? It's been a long time since I've had his food!" He exclaimed, a wide grin spread across his face.

Yuzu came into the kitchen behind him, a kind smile on her face. "Yes, I've always loved Ichi's cooking." She set down a bag and began pulling out items, telling Grimmjow that she had decided to restock everything that was lost to this meal. He smiled at the young woman. He was a little amazed that someone so kind and soft-spoken could be Ichigo's sister. "Yeah," Isshin said, scratching his chin. "Yuzu's cooking is rather good, too... but it's a nightmare when she decides to stay with a friend. You wouldn't believe how bad Karin's cookin--" He was cut off by a sharp smack to the head as Karin stepped through the doorway with a 'hmph'.

"Shut up, you old man. So I can't cook. Big whoop." She made her way across the kitchen next to Nel, having found a liking for the childish woman. Ichigo quickly prepared dinner, pulling out all of the plates that Grimmjow's home contained and serving dinner for the 9 people in the large apartment.

As they crowded around the island counter as much as possible (excluding Ulquiorra, who instead opted to eat standing up a few feet away), they began to talk about what Ichigo had found out about himself within the past few hours. Nel brought her chopsticks up from her plate and pointed at Ichigo on the other side of the counter, yelling a loud, "Hah! I knew it!"

Ichigo frowned as she continued. "I knew you were a fashion designer. I told you so!" The orange haired man's frown deepened as she continued to rant out a barrage of 'i told you so's. Szayel decided to direct the conversation slightly to give the poor man a break. "So, you're only 22 and you're already a fashion designer?" Ichigo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, nodding in response. "Yes. It seems I am currently wearing my own designs."

Grimmjow paused, confused at the provided information. He glanced at the clothes that the young man wore, a light clicking on in his head. He was wearing the up-and-coming clothes that Grimmjow had bought for him--the brand called Shinigami Rep. He really wanted to smack himself on the forehead. He never really stopped and thought about it since Ichigo's full name was revealed, but K.I. certainly did match Kurosaki Ichigo. _Well_, he thought blandly._ At least that's one mystery solved_. Nel, on the other hand, gasped at the revelation.

"_You're_ the main designer of Shinigami Rep?" She covered her mouth with her hands, covering her wide grin and battling the need to flap her arms excitedly. Ichigo nodded cautiously, pushing into his newly found memories a bit. "Yeah..." He gave a slight wince, the tell-tale signs of a headache forming. He ignored the spreading ache. "I started my own line and help out Rukia's company a bit from time to time. She's in.." he paused, searching for the words. "Soul Society. She's not exactly... artist material, but..." He smirked, suddenly remembering her cartoonish drawings of bunny rabbits and teddy bears. By the look on her face, she knew _exactly_ what Ichigo was thinking. "She's a manager of Soul Society designs. She's helped me out quite a bit, too." Nel let out a squeal unexpectedly, bouncing in her seat. Karin scooted her chair away from the hyper-active woman, beginning to rethink her liking to her.

Rukia merely pushed the disguised change of attention away. "Ichigo has always had a natural talent for those types of things. He's always had a thing for art--a natural knack for it." For some reason, Ichigo resented the last sentence. It felt almost like a personal stab, whether it was unintentional or not. He frowned a bit as Rukia continued.

"He's also been quite a fighter. There was never a week that he wasn't fighting in school. He never really got hurt from the fights much, but..." she paused, raising her hand to her chin in thought. "When he did happen to get hurt, it would be rather extensive--so you can imagine he was rather acquainted with doctors offices." She turned her eyes on the man in amusement, laughing internally at the scowl that was now painted across his features. Just as Grimmjow had been about to question further on the subject, Ichigo abruptly stood up and waltzed over to the kitchen sink, dumping his plate in it and beginning to rinse it off.

Everyone around the counter sensed that the subject was finished for the night as they each stood up and made their way to the sink. Ichigo was about to begin doing dishes until Yuzu stepped up and shook her head, nudging him away. "It's okay, Ichi," she said with a kind smile, "I'll do it." Ichigo wanted to protest, but instead stepped back and nodded. "Okay, then."

He left the kitchen and flopped onto the couch. Pantera, long forgotten in the chaos, jumped into his lap, demanding his attention. His lips quirked slightly upwards as he threaded his fingers through the demanding cat's thick, fur coat. Ulquiorra and Szayel walked by, bidding their goodnight and leaving the apartment. Grimmjow and Nel joined him in the living room, the green haired woman taking residence on the chair, forcing her brother to sit beside Ichigo on the couch.

Rukia walked out of the kitchen with a smile on her face, stopping in front of the orange haired man. "Well. Glad to see you're safe but I gotta get home. I've got shift in the morning." She almost reached forward to hug the man before stopping with a frown, contemplating if it was really wise to hug a man who didn't have all of his memories and already didn't like human contact all that much. Ichigo saw her hesitation and slowly reached his arms up, inviting her into a hug. While he couldn't really deal with surprise contact from _anyone_, known contact from someone he trusted was okay. She accepted the silent offer gratefully and quickly said her goodbyes, exiting the apartment.

His family exited the kitchen and headed in the direction of the door. Yuzu smiled in Grimmjow's and Nel's direction. "It's been really lovely, but we have to be going now." She gave a slight tilt of the head as the older siblings nodded. Grimmjow realized exactly what was happening.

Ichigo was going to leave now.

He felt a horrible jolt in his stomach, his jaw clenching in anger, frustration and disappointment. Grimmjow wanted Ichigo to stay, but he knew that he couldn't just keep the man from his family for his own selfish reasons. The man had been separated from his relatives in both body and mind--and now they were reunited! He couldn't do a thing to stop what was happening. He felt angry that he wanted Ichigo to stay so badly, frustrated that he was having such a large internal conflict and disappointed that he couldn't speak up for what he wanted. But he kept his facade up and showed no display of his internal raging.

Grimmjow and Nel stood up, Ichigo casting a confused glance around him. Not knowing what to do, he followed suit, pushing Pantera off of his lap and standing up from his position on the couch. Isshin waved his hand to Ichigo, beckoning him to their side. "Come on, my son. It's time to go," he said with a bright smile.

Ichigo's look of confusion turned to shock. He was... leaving? _But.. what about Nel? _He thought. _What about..._

_Grimmjow?_

Isshin seemed to notice the look and gave a sharp frown. "Come on, Ichigo. It's time to go home." Yuzu watched the exchange with a bit of surprise while Karin and Nel watched on with knowing expressions. They both knew the outcome of this.

"'Home'?" Ichigo echoed. Isshin nodded, watching his son cautiously. Ichigo stared at the man for a moment before turning his chocolate-eyed gaze to Grimmjow. He watched the blue haired man for a few moments before turning back to his father. "But...

"This _is_ home."

Karin smirked, grabbing Yuzu's wrist and pulling her out the front door. Nel smirked (at both the response and the look of pure surprise on her brother's face) and took her leave from the apartment as Isshin let out a garbled sound before jumping headfirst into the argument. "What do you_ mean _this is home? Your home is--" He was interrupted by Ichigo's strong gaze and his hard, no-shit tone of voice. "_Dad_." He immediately shut up, looking up from his now-frozen hands. Ichigo had grabbed a hold of Grimmjow's wrist, turning from his dad and staring at the blue haired man straight on. They seemed to communicate, because when their staring session ended, a ghost of a smile was stretching across Grimmjow's face as he turned to Isshin with hard and determined eyes. "Don't worry." Grimmjow smirked down at Ichigo beside him. "I'll take care of the kid."

Ichigo snapped his head around, glaring holes at Grimmjow. "I am _not_ a kid. I am 22 years old! That's 4 years over the adult legality age!" Grimmjow's smirk only grew wider. "Oh yeah? Well _I'm_ 26 years old. That's 4 years older than you and 8 years over the line of adulthood."

"What the hell, bastard? That only means that I was 14 while you were 18. I was 18 while you were 22. It's not that big of a difference!" As they continued to banter back and forth, Isshin stood back, a smile slipping back onto his face. Grimmjow had already become a very special--a very _important_ person to his son. He wasn't about to take that away from him.

He interrupted the banter by clearing his throat, internally laughing as they both turned to him with twin scowls. "Well," he began. "I can see you are happy here. I'll check up on you then, 'kay? Keep in touch." The skin around his eyes crinkled as his smile grew. He stepped up and slowly wrapped his arms around his son, whispering, "I'm glad you're okay." He pulled out of the hug and turned around, marching his way to the door and exiting the apartment.

Grimmjow and Ichigo stood at the spot where they last saw the lightly tanned man, the moment seeming so unreal. Grimmjow never thought that Ichigo might actually stay of his own accord. The possibility never even crossed his mind. Ichigo, on the other hand, was absolutely amazed. From what he could remember of the man he called 'father', he was childish and protective. He thought the man would never let up.

It took a few moments for the situation to sink in, his lips quirking into a small smile. He turned around and wrapped his arms around the blue haired man, happy that he was able to _stay_. When the body he was hugging _froze_, however, he nearly panicked. _Did I just...? Shit._

Ichigo hastily pulled away, avoiding Grimmjow's confused, wide-eyed gaze. "Yeah. So. I didn't take a shower today--so I'm going to go take one now." He slipped off to the bathroom without so much as a look at the blue haired man. Grimmjow watched as the door shut behind the man, before looking down at his hands with a small, uncharacteristic smile on his face.

_It seems... _Grimmjow thought, staring at his hands, only vaguely registering his surroundings.

_...That I can no longer let him go._

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	8. Protector

Started May 14th.

Completed May 21st.

**Authoress: **Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s): **I do not own Bleach. If I did, Hatake-taichou would be a main character. I think he's pretty cool.

**Warning:**

Violence

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 7**

**"Protector"**

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* * *

  
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After the meeting with his family, Ichigo's friends came to visit regularly. A pretty good amount of his friends actually worked alongside Rukia--her brother whom was a designer along with his assistant Renji. Toushiro, another designer and his assistant Matsumoto. Another assistant of a different designer constantly tried to tag along--a young, pink-haired teenager by the name of Yachiru. The girl kept on _insisting _that he go 'play' with her superior. Thankfully enough, he remembered the man--Zaraki Kenpachi. He figured out that seeing him wasn't really the best idea. His memories had actually been coming back at a regular pace ever since the meeting. It had been a few weeks since then and he could already remember a good portion of his life--although there were still a few blanks.

Three more friends from high school visited him every few days, popping in at the most random of times. They were his absolute _best _friends along with Rukia--although they were rather odd. Yasutora Chad, a tall, tan man with wavy brown hair was one of them. He and Ichigo knew each other since middle school, backing each-other up in an unprecedented fight. The man was quiet and strong, but one of the kindest people you could possibly meet, Ichigo had claimed. He worked many jobs off and on, helping anyone and everyone that asked for his help or assistance.

Inoue Orihime was an average sized woman (with a rather large bust) accomadated with long, flowing, orange-red hair and a kind, yet clumsy personality. She had known Ichigo since elementary school, having developed a crush for him (and grown out of it) and insisted on following him around ever since. Grimmjow learned to _never_ let the woman cook in his house again. She had claimed she was going to make homemade ramen and... the blue haired man _swore _that it turned out nothing like any type of human food that he had seen or even _heard _of. Grimmjow unwaveringly demanded that Ichigo never allow her to cook again in his house.

Lastly was Uryuu Ishida. Grimmjow personally found the man to be very strange (and truthfully a bit annoying). He stood at average height with black hair in a strange hairstyle and navy blue eyes hidden behind squared spectacles. All Grimmjow knew was the man was freaking _effeminate. "It's like the fucker's a woman. He's a friggin' professional when it comes to sewing!" _Ichigo had punched him in the arm, telling him that it was only natural--he was the one that made Ichigo's designs into a prototype where they were adjusted and such before they were mass-produced.

While his friends were happy to learn that he was okay, they had their own jobs and lives to attend to. They could never stay very long, but managed to stop by every time they had the extra time.

For some reason, Grimmjow noticed, Ichigo seemed to dislike his job. When he had suggested that Ichigo start his work back up again, the man had scowled. When Grimmjow inquired as to what the problem was, Ichigo replied, "I don't think I want to start work back up just yet."

For the next few days after this confrontation, Ichigo had been moody and unsocial, snapping whenever something didn't go the way he wanted it to. One day, when Grimmjow had come home from work, he had come across a bit of a worrying situation. Ichigo was sitting in the living room, glaring at his newly replaced sketchbook before he yanked it out of his lap and threw it across the room with a growl.

Grimmjow stepped in, utterly confused. "What the hell, Ichigo?" He waltzed over to the mangled sketchbook and snatched it up, straightening out the pages and closing it. He held it up accusingly as he glared at Ichigo. "What the fuck has your problem been for the last couple of days?" Ichigo just glared at him silently, not willing to speak. "Well?" Grimmjow growled out, his anger levels climbing steadily.

Finally Ichigo looked away, his features set in a frown. "I'm just... frustrated." Grimmjow felt his tension release, letting his arm fall to his side. He made his way to the couch to flop down next to the orange haired man and set the sketchbook on the coffee table, silently motioning for Ichigo to continue.

The man blew out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I don't like being around people. I never have. I prefer to just lose myself in my drawings rather than to socialize." He let a confused expression twist across his face, staring at nothing in particular. "It's been like that ever since I was a kid, ever since..." He flinched slightly before shaking his head, having lost the oncoming memory. "But... I don't like to design clothes. Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at the last sentence and the indecipherable muttering that followed it. Somehow, he felt things were a little bit deeper than Ichigo let on. He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. _What a stubborn dumb-ass, _he thought.

Grimmjow stood up from the couch, smoothing the wrinkles from his work pants he looked over his shoulder at Ichigo. "I don't see why you don't like your clothing designs. I actually think they're good." Without another word, Grimmjow had walked to his room to change into more comfortable clothes. The next day, Ichigo had made some phone calls and gotten some materials brought in to start designing from home. He even stopped being so moody, returning to his usual quietly happy demeanor.

Grimmjow left work that day, pleased that Ichigo had mellowed out. But he was still a bit curious. What exactly had Ichigo left out of his explanation the day prior? He paused, thinking. After a few moments, he came to a decision. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open, searching through his phone book for a number that had recently been added. When the other line clicked and a confident "hello?" rung through, Grimmjow immediately got down to business.

"Hey. Can you come meet me?"

* * *

The two of them sat in awkward silence, the atmosphere of the cafe becoming more uncomfortable by the minute. Finally having had enough, the black haired woman let out a dramatized sigh before (attempting) to flip her short hair over her shoulder. "So?" Rukia probed. "What did you want?"

Grimmjow snapped out of his musings, pushing his coffee cup toward the middle of the table. Deciding that blunt was better than round-a-bout, he immediately got to the point. "Why doesn't Ichigo like his job?"

Rukia wanted to laugh. Why did he want to know about Ichigo? Perhaps he was becoming closer and more involved with her close friend than she (or he, for that matter) had ever imagined possible. With that, it's natural to come to the conclusion that the man was curious. This irked her a bit. She had just driven through two cities to satisfy an arrogant man's curiosity. Lovely.

With her elbows on the table, she rested her forehead on her hands, hiding her face from sight. She muttered lowly, peeved that this was actually rather unimportant. After a few moments, she raised her head, staring at the man across from her straight on. "It's nothing all that life-shattering or note-worthy." She leaned back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest. She noted that his curiosity had not dampened as she continued.

"Back when we were in college, he had pursued an art degree--to specifically become an artist. Not a designer of any sort." She shrugged slightly. "He had worked really hard in the classes, wanting nothing more than to become an artist. When he presented his final piece of artwork, his most wonderful masterpiece that held all of his talent and effort to his professor, however..." She let out a sigh, clearly a irritated at the memory. "He had tossed it to the side and claimed it as trash." Grimmjow felt his eyebrows raise, a bit surprised. She continued, not even bothering to let him sort his thoughts out. "He was told that he had no talent as an artist and that it was impossible for him to pursue a career solely in art. So the next best option he had was in design--so he went with clothing design. We later found out, however," she said, reaching forward and taking a drink of her water, "that the man had a personal grudge against Ichigo."

Grimmjow was now confused. He silently narrowed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows. Rukia pushed her water closer to the middle of the table, rolling her shoulders slightly. "Ichigo's father is a doctor--but he wasn't always one. He actually used to be a cop, and a rather good one at that." Grimmjow kept silent, waiting for her to continue. She glanced out the window, frowning at her thoughts. "It turns out that Isshin had put a rather famous criminal away in jail. It was an event that was covered by the media for weeks. The criminal just so happened to be the professor's older brother." She turned back to Grimmjow, noticing the deep frown etched across his face.

That wasn't right. How could such a thing happen to Ichigo? As he was now, Grimmjow could tell that Ichigo held a deep affection for art. The man lost himself in drawing, poured everything he had into his drawings. It was unfair that all of that was lost and taken away from him because of some deranged, grudge-bearing professor. Grimmjow wanted to growl. Ichigo deserved the chance to go after he wanted--to pursue his dreams...

Rukia watched the expressions cross Grimmjow's face. This, she realized, was a man who had become deeply entangled and attached to Ichigo. A frown slipped across her lips. She didn't really like the man in all honesty. Not to mention he was very rude. But... while all of that was true, she had to (grudgingly) admit that he was probably the one person who could stand next to Ichigo for life. That he was probably the only one who could understand him.

That he was probably the only one who could _protect _Ichigo from his horrid past...

As if reading her thoughts, Grimmjow snapped her from her musings as he asked her another question. "Why... exactly did Ichigo begin to love art..?" Almost immediately, her eyes had hardened, her expression becoming blank. She stared at him, sorting through her options. She finally began to speak. "I can't tell you much--it's not my place to say."

The black haired woman leaned forward, eyeing him with a look of all seriousness. "The only reason why I know about what happened is because of Ichigo's father. Ichigo would probably have never told me, considering his personality. But even then, we don't know the whole entire story. Ichigo never really told _anybody._ There was a really big incident that happened many years ago... After that, he sank into a sort of depression and rarely talked. He got absorbed into art, using that to express himself and forget everything with. Otherwise..." She shook her head, unable to continue.

Grimmjow knew he would have to tread on this subject carefully. "So this event that happened... created the voice in his head?" Rukia's eyes shot up to his, locking them both in a staring match. She stayed perfectly still, only her lips moving as she answered. "You know about it?" Without waiting for confirmation, she spoke again. "The voice... was created by that event. It might be the only thing that has kept him sane all of these years."

Grimmjow nodded, sinking into his own thoughts. Things were becoming more and more complicated--and everything centered around what happened to Ichigo. After a bit longer of a discussion, Rukia had concluded that Ichigo probably didn't remember that part of his past yet--which was most likely a good thing. The blue haired man stood up, still absorbed in his thoughts. He didn't even hear himself say, "thanks for the help, woman," nor did he hear the indignant sputter that followed it.

* * *

When Grimmjow got home that night, he had followed the normal procedure that had been established. He and Ichigo ate dinner together and talked, bringing the blue haired man back out of his thoughts. It wasn't good for him to just stay immersed in his thoughts. He was truly curious about what had happened in Ichigo's past, but there was really no point in asking him. Not only would he most likely not remember, but even if he did, he wouldn't give a straight answer.

They had idle conversation throughout dinner, talking about each-other's work and getting a little more detail on the day-to-day life that they each had when the other wasn't around. They were interrupted, however, when a loud crash sounded from the living room. Ichigo slid off of the stool and followed Grimmjow into the living room, looking over the man's shoulder when the blue eyed man yelled his cats name with malice.

The vase that they had just recently gotten and put on an endtable next to the couch had been knocked over, the water slowly seeping into the cracks of the couch. The broken remains of the vase lay scattered on the ground along with the shreds of the once beautiful flowers. If that wasn't enough, the paint that Ichigo had received a few weeks back had also spilled open and soaked into the couch, having been placed on the same end-table as the vase. Pantera sat quietly on the opposite side of the couch, stretching out innocently on the ground.

Ichigo let out a minor groan as he left to go get cleaning supplies. As he soaked up the liquids from the couch he tossed the soaked towels to the side, catching sight of the blanket he used only to be horror-stricken. The blanket was covered in paints, from brilliant blues to dull reds to bright yellows. It was nearly midnight already. How long was he supposed to stay up to wait for that to come clean--just so he could sleep?

Grimmjow followed his gaze, coming to rest on the multi-colored blanket. He figured out exactly the problem that Ichigo was thinking of and came to a split-second decision. Well, he was only trying to get what he wanted. What better way than one step at a time?

"Now that I think about it..." Grimmjow said, "it's pretty ridiculous that you have to sleep on a couch every night. You do live here, after all." Ichigo looked up, a confused expression blooming on his face. Grimmjow turned away, pretending to go into thought, rubbing his chin.

"I think... I'm going to get you your own bed." Ichigo blinked, speechless. Finally he said, "What?" Grimmjow rolled his eyes and repeated himself. Ichigo stared at him for a minute before raising an eyebrow and glancing around. "And where exactly is that bed going to go?" Grimmjow really wanted to laugh all of a sudden. He pointed at the door next to the kitchen. "It'll probably go in there."

Ichigo turned and looked at the door. He could have sworn that was a closet. He'd never really looked inside, so he just assumed... He stood up and made his way over, prying the door open and peeking in. It was a simple office room, with a desk and computer and a few tables with random papers scattered over them. "Huh..." Ichigo pulled his head out of the door and turned to Grimmjow. "I never knew that was there." The blue haired man nodded with a condescending smirk etched on his face. "Yeah, I figured."

Ichigo scowled at the sarcastic comment, feeling the childish urge to stick his tongue out at the man. He instead made his way to the soppy towels and picked them up, going to the small laundry room inside the kitchen and yanking open the washer lid. He began pulling knobs and twisting them, the sound of running water breaking the silence. As he started to pour in the detergent, he called out to Grimmjow. "Even if you do give me a bed, that doesn't exactly fix the problem of the couch." Ichigo jumped slightly when he heard Grimmjow's voice reply right behind him. "Then... I'll buy a new couch tomorrow along with your bed... and you can sleep next to me tonight."

Ichigo, having not expected such an answer, dropped the measuring cup that he had been using into the washing machine, turning around sharply to stare at Grimmjow. The man couldn't _possibly _be serious. What a ridiculous joke. The orange haired man felt his stomach twist when Grimmjow's face was that of pure seriousness. _What the hell, _Ichigo couldn't help but think. _He isn't fucking kidding._

Grimmjow merely raised an eyebrow. "What? Afraid I'm going to rape you or something?" Ichigo drew back at the question, a bit surprised. Grimmjow laughed and continued. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not interested in kids." Ichigo's lips drew back into a fierce scowl, his fists balling up in anger. "For the last fucking time, I'm _not _a kid."

The blue haired man smirked and gave a shrug. He turned around, shaking his head. "If you say so, kiddo." Ichigo snarled slightly, ready for a fight. Before he could pounce on the man, however, Grimmjow looked over his shoulder and pointed at the washing machine. "Oh, you might want to get that measuring cup. It would be a bitch to get it out when the wash cycle starts up." The blue eyed man's smirk grew in size as he turned back around and headed out of the kitchen whilst listening to Ichigo's curses as he fished around for the cup in soapy water.

* * *

For the first time in the almost-four-months that he had lived in Grimmjow's house, Ichigo wanted to scream. Sure, he had felt the need to yell and rant and _bitch_, but the urge to scream had never presented itself to Ichigo since he met the blue haired man. But, _damn, _he had the crushing urge to _scream._

_How in the seven hells did I end up in _this _situation? _The orange haired man couldn't help but think to himself. He angled his head slightly, gaze locking with electric blue eyes only a foot or so away. He never once averted his eyes, his body rigid and ready to flee. He jolted ever so slightly when Grimmjow tilted his head and rolled his eyes. "Good god, you dumb-ass kid. Just go to bed." Grimmjow sunk lower under the comforter, hiding his bare chest and navy blue boxers. He rolled onto his side, presenting his muscled back to the uncomfortable man.

Ichigo remained still, watching the mans form even after the lamp light had been clicked off, shrouding the room in darkness. After coming to the conclusion that Grimmjow wasn't a threat, he sunk himself under the comforter, cozily clad in a t-shirt and pants. No way in _hell _he was getting next to Grimmjow half-naked. The man just naturally _screamed _sex. Of course, that was merely common sense he told himself--most definitely not his own personal opinion.

He lay on his back, slowly gaining comfort in the large bed. It had been a long time since he had slept on anything wider than his own body. And from what he remembered (which was actually a lot), he had never slept next to anybody. It was a strange feeling...

But not necessarily bad.

Ichigo stared at the ceiling, suddenly finding that it was getting harder and harder to fall asleep as his thoughts wandered through the recesses of his mind. _I wonder... I wonder exactly what happened that night. When I met Grimmjow. I have no memories of that... or what happened all those years ago. Why is it so painful to try to remember?_

_Why is it painful?_

He tried to force the memories to the surface, concentrating long and hard on the sensation that he would always feel with a flashback. He layed there for countless minutes, scrunching his eyes, fisting the sheets, and willing his life's memories to come back.

The only thing he succeeded in doing, however, was wearing his mind out. He was already physically weary, and the mental strain only pushed him further into the clutches of fatigue. Chocolate brown eyes slowly slipped shut as Ichigo finally conceded to his dreams.

* * *

Time seemed to be skewed... _distorted. _In fact, _everything _seemed to be distorted. The memory was a bit vague, as if he hadn't been fully aware of what was happening when it happened. He could feel his limbs, but it was almost as if they _weren't his. _

The alleyway that his past-self stood in seemed to sway, the world tilting off of its axis. A group of men stood around him, brandishing multiple varieties of weapons that were found upon the ground--lead pipes, shards of broken glass, small wood blocks.

He knew that he couldn't fight these men. He was tired, injured, and outnumbered. It would be fighting a losing battle. He also knew that he couldn't run. In his shape, the men would catch up in mere seconds. Hell, maybe even nanoseconds considering how heavy his limbs were starting to feel.

Ichigo felt himself let out a private wry smile. So the only option that left him with was to take a beating--not that he would just sit back and let it happen, of course. If he was going down, he was taking the fuckers with him.

A few of the men--the higher-ups, no doubt--stepped forward, presenting their weapons menacingly. They hunched forward a little, cruel smiles spreading across each of their faces. Ichigo's bittersweet smile deepened, his eyes showing his frustration. _I can't believe, _he remembered himself thinking, _that I actually let these guys trap me..._

And with a deep voice that seemed to echo from within him, Ichigo felt relief spread through his limbs.

_**You know what I can't believe? Not the fact that you fell into the trap. Nope. I can't believe that you couldn't bail yourself out of it. What kinda bullshit is that? **_

A sharp, shrill laughter echoed through his head. A feeling was spreading through his body, as if he was being pushed away from control. At the same time, he could distantly feel a hum of energy gathering in his limbs. While the feeling was familiar to him, present-Ichigo couldn't help but feel a little awkward. His past self accepted the obtrusive feeling without a second thought.

_**Go to sleep, King. This'll be over with soon enough. **_Ichigo vaguely registered his cheeks stretching into a deranged grin. He watched as his body seemed to move on its own, bringing bruised knuckles up to his chest to pop provocatively. As his body moved forward gracefully, as if it were no longer covered in injuries, Ichigo felt his mind begin to slowly shut down, the scene dimming with each second that passed by.

The last thing that Ichigo witnessed was his fist being smashed into the nearest man, a loud, demented laugh surrounding him--a laugh that, for once, someone other than himself heard.

* * *

When Ichigo was pulled from the memory, he found himself not in the real world like he had expected, but somewhere very different. He had been here once before, a month or two back.

He swept his orange hair out of his eyes, surveying the area. There was absolutely nothing. At least, nothing except for water. Otherwise, it was a never-ending sea of black. The orange haired man couldn't help but feel anxious and paranoid. It was the perfect place for a surprise attack.

His musings were interrupted as the now-familiar voice encased him.

_**Jeez. Persistent, aren't you?**_

Ichigo's gaze was drawn to his reflection at his feet, an inverted version of himself rippling on the other side of the water. His reflection seemed to be very... different from himself, though. His opposite had a cruel smile pasted across his face. The other lowered himself onto his haunches, reaching out a hand to splay it across the water. Ichigo hesitated before doing the same, hovering his mirroring hand over the invert's.

All of a sudden, without warning, the invert reached across the liquid barrier, clamping his hand around Ichigo's wrist and dragging him under the water. The orange haired man wasn't even able to let out a sound of surprise before he was pulled underneath. An edge of panic clawed at his sides. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning. He was going to die.

Thoughts flew rampantly through his head, he was unable to grasp any of the thoughts before they slipped off, quickly replaced by another. He clenched his eyes shut, desperately trying to halt his rampaging thoughts and move intelligently. When he felt himself being pulled out of the water, however, he felt his body seize up with surprise.

Brown eyes slid open, looking immediately down at his perfectly dry clothes. Ichigo patted himself with wonder. He couldn't even feel the burn that usually followed any period of inactive breathing. A snort issued above him, causing him to look up and come face-to-face with his opposite.

"Dumb-ass. We're in your head. I think it would be nearly impossible for you to die here." The look alike stepped back, watching as Ichigo slowly stood up. His cruel smile only grew in glee when Ichigo happened to catch a glance of their surroundings.

They were no longer in an empty space, void of anything save for water. Now they were in a massive city, absolutely everything in sight in a strict black and white coloring pattern. What had _really _made Ichigo throw himself back to the ground was the fact that he wasn't necessarily _on _the ground. Instead of him standing on the pavement of the street, he found himself standing on the side of a building... staring _down _at the pavement. It was a little unnerving to say the least.

"You'll get used to it." The deathly-pale reflection of Ichigo ran a hand through his hair. Ichigo slowly made his way to a standing position again, glancing warily at the empty, dull street below. The orange haired man continued to watch the street as he started to speak. "You... who are you?" After a few moments of silence, Ichigo finally looked up at his mirror image. The other watched him with cold, calculating eyes.

"You call me Hichi. It's the name that you gave me." Ichigo was a little confused at this point. Why in God's name would he name the identical bastard? Considering the fact that he had most of his memories and personality back, he felt that, no matter what position he was in, he would avoid all communications with someone who happened to look exactly like him. It was just a little too creepy, after all. Either way, the whole thing was confusing in all aspects. Just what the hell was the guy doing in his head, anyway? He remembered that the voice, the voice of the man who stood in front of him, had said that he was Ichigo's protector. _Protector of _what, _exactly?_

The man, _Hichi_, seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. Without even asking questions, he immediately began to explain. "I am a part of you. I am what you would call a 'second personality'. You created me many years ago to help ease the pain of the incident. The only reason I am here is to protect you, both physically and mentally." Hichi grinned, unconcerned with Ichigo's widening gaze. "As for emotional, however, you're on your own. If you need my help with that one, you're screwed."

Ichigo stared at the pale version of himself, the realization taking time to set in. After the course of a few minutes, what Hichi said had finally sunk in. While it was a bit discomforting to share your head (and basically have proof that you're crazy), he knew that it made sense. He could feel a familiarity with the one in front of him and knew that it wasn't a lie. So, now that all of _those _questions had been answered and solved, an irking and persistent question made its way to the surface.

"If you... were created to protect me... what were you created to protect me from?" Hichi's face fell into utter seriousness as the atmosphere seemed to get heavier. It was as if they were battling within his mind, their subconscious forms not even having to move a muscle. As Ichigo pushed harder, he rephrased his question into what he instinctively _knew _it all boiled down to.

"What the hell happened all those years ago?"

And the fight was over. The feel of Hichi's opposing force relented as he blew out an irritated sigh. "I suppose that I can't keep it from you forever. The dam is close to breaking." The buildings around them began to slowly crumble, small chunks falling to the ground below. The damage wasn't nothing to worry about, really. At the rate it was going, it would take years to break the buildings down--but the situation added to the growing mood. This was serious, and he could feel it.

"I refuse to let you see all of it," the surroundings began to dim around Ichigo, the feeling of being pulled out and away growing immensely, "just don't regret your decision... King."

The next thing Ichigo knew was that he was pulled out of his subconscious and shoved into the second memory for that night. And when the fragmented memory began to play, Ichigo found himself submerged in a world filled with flowing blood and terrified screams, the unclear memories that happened around him like a scene out of a horrific play.

And for the first time since waking up in Grimmjow's home, Ichigo truly wished with every fiber of his being that he would be unable to fully regain his memories.

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	9. Stalker

A/N: Although this chapter only had minor sexual content, it has been edited out of this version to fit the guidelines for fanfiction dot net. If you wish to read the full chapter, you must be 18 years or older. The non-edited version can be found on my LiveJournal under my username of Desperatembrace. If you have trouble finding it, the link to my LJ is on my profile as my homepage.

Started May 24th.

Completed May 30th.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s):** I do not own Bleach. If I did, Kaien-dono would be my lover. Or Hisagi. Either's cool. (What? Ichigo and Grimmjow are taken!)

**Warning:**

Violence

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 8**

**"Stalker"**

**

* * *

  
**

When Grimmjow woke up the next morning, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Ichigo always woke him up--he had never forgotten even once. Granted, some of those times were a little more _outrageous_ than others, but he was always woken up on time none-the-less. So when the blue haired man saw that it was a few minutes before noon, he felt a weight hit his stomach.

He looked around his room, having remembered that Ichigo had slept next to him that night. He found no traces of the orange haired young man except for the wrinkled blankets on his side of the bed--evidence that he really had slept next to Grimmjow. He sat up and threw the covers off of himself, venturing to the living room. The man wasn't in there. Usually, Grimmjow would smell some sort of food by now, but the air remained void of the delectable scent of breakfast or lunch.

Deciding to check the kitchen anyways, he entered the doorway only to stop. Ichigo sat on one of the stools at the island counter, leaning his forehead into the palms of his hands. He was staring at the marble counter-top, his face expressionless. Grimmjow grew closer to the man to get a better look at his face. The chocolate brown eyes were dilated, seeming to have no presence behind the stare.

The blue haired man was beginning to get worried. Something really bad happened to Ichigo. Something that had a huge impact on him. Deciding to snap the man from his daze, Grimmjow spoke up. "Yo Ichigo. What's the big i--" He was unable to finish the sentence, surprised by the orange haired man's reaction. He had flung himself backwards, widened eyes snapped to Grimmjow as he and the stool fell to the ground, creating a hollow clatter.

In all honesty, Grimmjow had no idea how to respond to such a situation. Ichigo continued to stare at him, his eyes menacingly wild. After a few moments, recognition seemed to dawn on him as he finally began to relax. Sucking in a shaky breath, Ichigo pulled himself up from the floor, righting the stool in its position. He knew he would have to defend his actions to keep the man from thoroughly questioning him, but he had no story to back himself. He gave a feeble attempt to cover it up.

"Sorry. You startled me." Ignoring the blue haired man's incredulous look, he walked around the island, his limbs still a little shaky. Each step he took made him feel as if his legs were going to collapse beneath him. He began pulling out ingredients for something to cook, furiously trying to concentrate on something other than the feeling of Grimmjow's stare on his back.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Ichigo became more and more antisocial. Any time that Ichigo spoke to Grimmjow, it was only when it was necessary. When the new couch and bed had arrived, Ichigo had nodded slightly in the blue haired man's direction and locked himself in his new room, beginning to rearrange the furniture to fit in the bed and make it more comfortable. When he came out, he walked straight past the taller man and immediately began pushing the ruined couch out of the way to make room for the new one. Grimmjow had stood by and watched him, wondering what exactly was going on. Why was Ichigo pushing him away? Why would he no longer talk to him? Did the sleeping arrangements from that night cause all of this?

He couldn't help but think it was his fault. After all, Ichigo had obviously been uncomfortable that night, unable to sleep properly next to him. When he woke up in the morning, Ichigo had begun to act weird, flinching at random moments and just outright avoiding the blue haired man. It was natural to believe that the bed stunt was the cause. But somehow, Grimmjow instinctively knew that it was something else. Something else was plaguing Ichigo to make him act so strangely.

In conclusion, he decided to let the orange haired man be. Perhaps he would get over it after a few days. So the days pushed on into weeks, the silence between the two growing into an abundantly uncomfortable atmosphere. It never let up.

Now Grimmjow was starting to get fed up. He thought time would do the younger man a bit of good and allow him to come to terms with whatever the hell was plaguing him. Obviously, time wasn't doing its job very well. He decided to confront Ichigo. He wanted to know what the hell was going on, and he wanted to know _everything._

Grimmjow had finally persuaded the younger man to come with him to go eat at the cafe that they had dined at together all those months back. Sitting at the same table that they had last sat at, they silently looked over the menus embedded in the glass of the table. When they had relayed what they wanted to the waiter, they had elapsed into silence once more. Grimmjow sat back in his seat and stared at Ichigo before he finally spoke.

"So what the fuck is going on?" Ichigo snapped his gaze from the window onto Grimmjow, maintaining his silent disposition. Grimmjow wanted to growl. Why the hell wasn't the kid answering? "Are you going to answer me?" He managed to keep himself from yelling, although luckily, not many people were dining at this time of night.

Ichigo continued to watch the man across from him in silence. He contemplated whether he should tell Grimmjow or not. He had never told anybody about it before. Over the past few weeks, he had regained all of those memories. Every single one. They were something that he had never wanted to live through ever again. But every time he gained back a memory, it was like he was re-experiencing it all over again. He could practically feel his sanity ripping apart each time he gained a new segment of the memory. He couldn't handle it anymore.

Ichigo glanced past Grimmjow at the last group of people in the cafe. He watched the small family, his eyes going distant as he felt the familiarity of what having a family was like. It was hard to recall the times when he actually had a complete family.

When his mother was alive.

He continued to stare at the table where the family had been even after they had left. They were now the last two people left in the small cafe, not including the staff members that had disappeared into the back room. He was startled from his thoughts when he heard a loud thump and looked up to see Grimmjow standing from his seat, his hands having slammed on the table. His electric blue eyes glared down at him, almost making Ichigo want to push back into his seat.

"Why the hell won't you answer me, Ichigo?" Ichigo knew that Grimmjow was serious. The blue haired man almost never used his full name--by now it had all turned into 'strawberry' and 'Ichi'. He only said his given name when he was determined to get what he wanted.

And by god he was going to get it.

Ichigo had made his decision. He had never told a soul about what had happened all those years ago. He damned well wasn't going to start now. Fixing a glare onto his face, Ichigo stood up and walked away, heading to the doors of the cafe. Screw riding in Grimmjow's car--he could fucking _walk_ back to the apartment.

He made his way around the side of the building, heading in the direction of the apartment. He stopped however, when he felt a pressure around his wrist and was yanked back around to face Grimmjow head on. The man was downright _pissed_.

He couldn't believe that Ichigo had walked out of there without even saying a word. The last time he had actually heard Ichigo talk was a few days ago, but he at least expected _some_ kind of response--even if it was only a simple 'fuck you'. Grimmjow shoved the shorter man up against the brick wall of the cafe. It was dark out, only a few lamp lights nearby, so Grimmjow had to push into Ichigo's personal space to be able to see his reactions and expressions.

"I have no idea what the fuck has been wrong with you for the past couple weeks. I thought it would be fine to give you some time to stop being a fucking whiny bitch and just get over it, but obviously that isn't working out too well." Ichigo glared as hard as he could, keeping the feral urge to bare his teeth at bay as Grimmjow's breath fanned out against his lips. It was a little uncomfortable to have the man only a few inches away from him.

Grimmjow wanted to spill all of his feelings then and there. But he would be damned to hell before he said that he was worried out loud. "To tell you the god-damned truth, it feels awkward to have you acting so strangely. The way you've been acting has just been utter bullshit."

Ichigo blinked. Even though it sounded like Grimmjow was annoyed, somehow, the only way his head could translate that as was that Grimmjow was worried about him. He wasn't exactly sure how to react to that. Surprised, of course. After all, who knew that Grimmjow would actually be worried? And about Ichigo no less? Ichigo had no time to contemplate his feelings however, because as he had opened his mouth to say 'sorry', Grimmjow had leaned forward and crushed his lips to Ichigo's slightly parted ones.

The orange haired man froze. He didn't know what to do. All of his thoughts ran rampantly through his head as he struggled to realize what was happening. Of course, the reality came crashing down on him when he felt a tongue swipe across his bottom lip. Grimmjow was pressed up against him in a lip-lock, asking for permission to do some literal tongue twisting.

Grimmjow was _kissing_ him.

His rational thoughts seemed to shut down after that as he opened his mouth a little wider to let Grimmjow's wet appendage in. The blue haired man wasted no time, immediately exploring Ichigo's mouth and making contact with Ichigo's tongue. Grimmjow pulled Ichigo away from the wall, still locked at the lips. He slipped his arms around man's waist, smirking deliciously when he felt Ichigo clench the back of his shirt slightly.

After Ichigo had began to relax in the embrace slightly, he started to participate in the kiss. Things started to get heated as their tongues battled, twisting and twining in a passionate fight. They finally pulled away to breathe, both emitting deep gasps to pull oxygen into their deprived lungs. They both stared at each-other, chests heaving and lips ever-so-slightly swollen from the kiss. Grimmjow smirked slightly when he spotted the glimmer of saliva trailing down Ichigo's jaw from the corner of his mouth, a mixture of Grimmjow's and Ichigo's DNA.

As Ichigo opened his mouth to speak (whether it was either to enquire about what had just happened or to apologize for his previous behavior, he didn't know), Grimmjow lightly smacked Ichigo's upper arm and walked past him. "Come on. Let's go home. I'm tired as hell."

Ichigo stared after the man for a bit, wondering how the man could just act normally after such a thing. Well, he was experienced in such things (as he learned from Nel). But he also knew that he had never had a serious relationship with anybody (also courtesy of Nel). Perhaps he was just giving Ichigo a chance to escape from the moment and what had just transpired. Or giving him a chance to come to terms with it.

The orange haired man gave a small smirk of his own as he followed Grimmjow in silence. He had never really known what it was like to be on the receiving end (or giving end, for that matter) of human affection. He wasn't a people person and preferred to be alone. He always believed that he wasn't really missing anything and that he probably wouldn't like it anyways. But somehow...

Ichigo found that he didn't really mind so long as Grimmjow was the partner.

**

* * *

**

After closing the door of their apartment behind them, Grimmjow couldn't help but notice Ichigo's strange reaction. The blue haired man had plenty of dates before (of course, none were serious), and he had seen many different kinds of reactions. There was the needy, 'take me here and now' reaction, where him and his partner would kiss and he would be jumped and urged into sex right then and there. There was the annoying, giggly reaction, where the partner would cling to him for the rest of the night and insist upon holding hands. Then, there was the horrified, absolutely insulted reaction, where he would earn a slap across the face for moving too quickly (or some other excuse along that line). Of course, there were much more, but only the basics were needed. Grimmjow had gained much experience from such encounters and believed that he knew a rather good amount about the 'kiss reaction'.

Ichigo's reaction, however, was something totally new to him.

After the kiss, the man had trailed him to the car and stayed silent in the passenger seat. He had his brown eyes stuck on the road outside, his lips quirked into the faintest of smiles and lost in his own thoughts (God knows what the man was thinking in the privacy of his own head).

When they had made themselves comfortable on the couch to watch a movie before going to bed, Ichigo had instead turned his attention to the blue haired man beside him. His face was almost expressionless, with only a light frown pulling at his lips. When Grimmjow had turned his head slightly in the man's direction, about to open his mouth to question him, Ichigo had stood up and walked to his room, shutting the door behind him. The blue haired man stared at the door for a few moments, unsure of how to proceed further.

He knew that he liked Ichigo. He was so much more attached to the man than he had ever been to anybody. Grimmjow didn't want to let him go. He wanted to keep the man by his side. All of his previous relationships had been, in all actuality, flings. He never wanted to keep any of them or be with them permanently, so he just stuck to what he wanted to do, regardless of whether his partner liked it or not. If they left, then so be it.

But with Ichigo, he had to tread carefully. Every time Grimmjow felt like he wanted to tease Ichigo or make fun of him (which was a lot), he had to think it through and make sure that it wouldn't hurt the man in any way. He never thought about what he said. It had always been natural for him to say what he wanted and tell everyone who didn't like his opinion or comments to fuck off.

Over the course of the next few days, Grimmjow was swamped with work, only allowed minimal time to think over the next step of their relationship. He was beginning to become a bit antsy (though he would never admit it), unable to see Ichigo as often as he usually did.

**

* * *

**

Unknown to Grimmjow, Ichigo was also pondering over their relationship. He knew that he liked the man, but he didn't understand in what way. He knew it was different from that of his family or friends. Did it automatically mean that he felt that way about the older man?

He didn't really know much about love or being in a romantic relationship. It was only natural considering that he'd never actually _been_ in a relationship. He found that he couldn't trust people all that easily, and the distance that he put between himself and others around him truly didn't help. So, in conclusion, he found himself confused. So now it all came down to one important question:

Did he like Grimmjow in a romantic way?

He skimmed through the isles of the store, vaguely picking up food items as he figured out the menu for the next few nights. Ichigo bumped into a few people scanning for their own grocery items, belatedly muttering an apology as he returned once more to his thoughts. He came to the canned goods section, looking through the different fruits and veggies that they had in stock. Personally, the orange haired man rather disliked canned goods--he preferred to pick out his own stuff and cook it to his liking, but it was a rather good option when he was constantly working on new designs. Quick and simple--the way of the Americans.

He picked out a few of the cans, depositing them into his basket. He had to stop and think. What else would be good for dinner? He had begun to turn his head, looking for food items that would give him ideas. He stopped.

When he turned, he had seen a man staring in his direction. Now, that would have been ignored and glossed over--Ichigo would have assumed that the man had seen someone he knew standing behind Ichigo, or even realized that the next item he needed was in that general direction. Red flags were raised in his head, however, when the man abruptly turned around and stared at the shelves in front of him, his posture rigid.

The orange haired man felt a shiver creep down his back. He couldn't help but think that the man was watching him. Ichigo decided to act as though he didn't notice, glancing around at the shelves now with a nervous edge. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the man, noting things about him. Now that he thought about it, the man was most definitely suspicious. He wore a fedora, big glasses, and a large, white overcoat.

Most people would attribute the strange attire to bad fashion sense. Somehow, Ichigo knew better. The hat gave little to no chance of seeing the man's hair color--same with the glasses and the man's eyes, and the large overcoat gave little insight to the man's body structure.

Ichigo became a bit skittish, but knew it was in his best interest to act as though he never noticed. So he continued to shop for the groceries, discreetly looking back every once in a while to check if the man was there. He felt his stomach drop further and further when he spotted the man each and every time.

_My god. I'm being followed._ The terrifying thought ran rampantly through his head. He made his way to the check out, proceeding as he normally would. When he stepped outside with the massive amount of grocery bags hanging off of his arms, he made a quick decision. He pulled out his cellphone and quickly dialed a number, trying to look as natural as possible. He let a casual smile grace his face as the line clicked. Grimmjow actually got off of work early today...

**

* * *

**

While Grimmjow was actually pretty happy to see Ichigo, he was starting to become a little irked. "So why the hell do I have to pick you up every time you go grocery shopping?" He hefted the groceries up to a more comfortable position before trailing after Ichigo into the kitchen.

The orange haired man was silent as he deposited his own grocery bags on the island counter before turning around and raising an eyebrow at Grimmjow. "Why the hell not? That's too much shit to carry 4 blocks. I can't do that all the time." He turned around, ignoring Grimmjow's eye-roll.

"Yeah. Sure. You didn't seem to have a problem with it for the past few months. And I still don't understand why you made me drive halfway to Karakura... what was it? A week ago?" Ichigo remained silent. That was the day that he first found out that he was being trailed. Never before had he been so deliriously happy for Grimmjow's hell-on-wheels driving until he tore out of the parking lot, away from his stalker. As far as Ichigo knew, the man still didn't know where he currently lived. But it was only a matter of time--after all, Grimmjow was a rather high-up man, and the suspicion would be at an all-time high when Grimmjow was constantly around the younger man. It would be easy to find information on the man's whereabouts.

The orange haired man was a little anxious. He knew he had to tell Grimmjow--he had the right to know. But what the hell was he supposed to say? Hell, how the fuck was he supposed to bring it up? The man would think he was off his rocker! But...

Ichigo let out a sigh, pausing in loading the groceries in their proper places in favor of massaging his temples. Grimmjow (having finally released himself from the damned infernal plastic bags that _would not let him go_) noticed the action, looking up with a small scowl on his face. "You know... you've been acting fucking weird lately..." The blue haired man would have thought it was due to the kiss, but it was a _different_ kind of weird. "You're really paranoid... constantly looking over your shoulder. Hit the blacklist or something?"

The younger man really wanted to laugh. Well, that was one way to bring it up. _Blacklist, huh?_ He managed a dry chuckle out loud. You have no idea. Since the topic had come up, Ichigo figured now was a good time to present the dilemma to Grimmjow. "Well..." He started off awkwardly, glancing first at Grimmjow and then Pantera as the cat jumped onto the counter. "I think..." He swallowed, mentally flailing for a way to say it without making himself sound crazier than he already seemed. (After all, he _did_ have a voice in his head.)

"Someone is stalking me."

You know, now that he thought about it, Ichigo found that he was a rather blunt person--whether he wanted to be or not.

Grimmjow, on the other hand, was once again stumped. How the fuck was he supposed to react to _this_ one? He stayed silent, debating on how to answer. He settled for opening and shutting his mouth repeatedly.

Ichigo wanted to just turn around and run. That didn't come out the way he wanted it to. He was planning on easing into it, like trying to adjust to the cold temperature of pool water. Instead, he just dove right in, engulfing himself in it. The orange haired man resisted a groan, damning his lack of tact and grace to hell.

He snapped back to attention when Grimmjow said, "What in fucking Christ's name are you talking about?" Ichigo stared at the taller man before him, willing himself to speak. But he really didn't know how to remedy the situation. How the hell does one smooth things out after blatantly saying that they have a stalker? A better question would be: How does one rewind time to prevent the crazy sounding statement? _That_, Ichigo thought, _would be a better option_. He wanted to smack himself when he saw the disbelieving face that Grimmjow had finally sunk into. Too bad it's not a choice.

"You..." Grimmjow's eyes narrowed. "Are you fucking delirious or something? Have you finally cracked and started seeing things? Any ghosts after you yet?" The blue haired man cracked a smirk at the last question, finding humor in his crass sarcasm. Ichigo, however, didn't find it funny _at all_. He balled his fists up, clenching them to the point that half-moon indentions were beginning to form on his palms. His face twisted into a deadly scowl as his brown eyes narrowed in anger.

"Fuck you." The words were quietly hissed out, full of venom. Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen, snatching up his hat, and waltzed out the front door. Grimmjow stood still and stared at the door where he had last seen the younger man mere seconds before, shocked. He didn't realize it, but Ichigo must have been really offended. Something really was going on. Something big.

He let out a sigh upon realizing his mistake, glancing over the forgotten grocery bags littering the kitchen counter and floor. Wearily, he made his way over to each bag, unloading the items and putting them away, ignoring the gut-wrenching flop his stomach made when his conscience kept reminding him that it would usually be _Ichigo_ putting the groceries away.

**

* * *

**

Ichigo was rather satisfied with the way things had worked out over the next few days. Grimmjow had been going into work early in the morning and having late shifts each night. They had a big project that was due within the week, and they were trying to get it done and over with. Due to this, Ichigo and Grimmjow had rarely passed each other--only the rare moment of getting up for a late night piss or snack at around the same time did they actually see each other. Even then, they didn't speak (or rather, Ichigo didn't speak and Grimmjow didn't know how to apologize) so the household maintained silence.

The younger man was growing more and more worried each day, though. He found someone watching him almost constantly when he went out to go shopping or for random errands. He managed to throw the followers off of his tracks, but... it was still really worrying. Ichigo knew he had to tell Grimmjow, but from the last time, he felt he could surmise that the man wouldn't believe him.

Ichigo stared into the large pot, stirring around the soup mixture while trying to organize his thoughts. He needed to find a way to get Grimmjow to believe him. But he had no idea how. He had never told anybody about his past--about what happened back then--and he wasn't planning on starting now. He knew by now that Grimmjow was extremely important to him, even bordering on something more than a friend. The orange haired man knew that he could connect to Grimmjow better than anyone else he had ever met. But there was this constant fear nagging at the back of his mind.

He had already lived through the event twice now--once in his memories. The last time that he had a full mental breakdown was _during_ the event. He instinctively knew that retelling everything would be ridiculously hard and he wouldn't be able to handle it. He didn't want to break down in front of Grimmjow. He frowned, reviewing his recent thoughts. His feelings for the man were starting to become too complicated for his tastes.

Ichigo held back a sigh. Hell, life in general was becoming too complicated for his tastes. He had a second personality that was trying to protect him from his past that was rampantly on his heels. Then, he decides to go off and become close to some insensitive asshole, developing feelings for the man that he couldn't quite decipher or understand. The orange haired man lifted the spoon to his mouth to taste the broth, freezing when he heard the creak of the main door.

Lowering the spoon, he turned to see Grimmjow enter the kitchen, cigarette protruding from his lips and jacket swung over his shoulder. Blue eyes widened slightly in surprise, his cigarette almost falling from his mouth as he moved to say something. Grimmjow shook his head, tossing the jacket onto the counter and pulling the cigarette from his mouth. He put it out in a nearby ashtray before turning around to face Ichigo.

"I got off work early today," he said rather bluntly. Ichigo stared at him for a minute before turning back to the soup, pouring ingredients in. "I figured." His words were clipped and his tone was sharp. He stirred chunks of meat in, ignoring the urge to run when his thoughts reminded him that Grimmjow was still behind him and most likely watching him. There was only the sound of sloshing broth and breathing before the blue haired man spoke.

"So... a stalker, huh?" He blew out a sigh, glancing at Ichigo's now stiff back. He sat himself in a stool and leaned back a bit, making a slight creaking noise. "Who is stalking you?" Ichigo stopped all movements, making the older man raise an eyebrow in question. "Why are they stalking you?" He rubbed his chin when he noticed that the younger man before him wasn't making any movements. Grimmjow was about to say something when Ichigo's quiet voice interrupted him.

"I'm not really sure.." Ichigo inwardly winced at the blatant lie as he turned off the fire on the stove. He hadn't been planning on lying... just avoiding the truth. He made his way to the living room, hearing light footsteps behind him--indicating that Grimmjow had followed him. "But every time I go out to get food for us or just run errands, there is someone tailing me. It isn't always the same person..." Ichigo wanted to curse. He just gave a rather large hint without even meaning to. If it 'isn't always the same person', then that means it isn't a deranged crazy person who's after him--it's more than one. Meaning they had a purpose for coming after Ichigo. The orange haired man began to panic. What if Grimmjow came to that conclusion? How much would he be able to find out..?

The blue haired man mistook the panic running across Ichigo's face as fear of the stalker. Of what was going to happen to him. He abruptly stood up from the stool and made his way over to Ichigo, the younger man not even noticing the movement. Grimmjow quickly wrapped him in his arms, awkwardly pulling him closer. Ichigo snapped out of his rushed thoughts and came to an even more panicky situation.

Grimmjow was hugging and _holding_ him.

_What. The. Hell._ His thoughts seemed to have come to an abrupt halt, functioning at a snail's pace. Grimmjow was trying to console him and calm him down. Trying to make him feel better.

The older man felt very awkward. "I..." He cleared his throat, wondering how to say his thoughts aloud. "I don't really know how to make someone feel better or keep them from worrying. All I know is that I want you to feel and be safe." Grimmjow almost couldn't recognize himself. Was he seriously spouting this crap? Was he seriously the one who was saying all of these pretty words?

Ichigo moved to pull away from the embrace, spurring Grimmjow into holding him even tighter against his body. Now, Ichigo found that he really did like being on close contact with Grimmjow, he finally came to terms with that. But this situation and position was just getting more and more awkward by the moment. Meanwhile, Grimmjow had to school his expression. His jaw was clenched as he fought against the embarassment, vaguely wondering why in the hell he was embarrassed in the first place.

When he finally got himself under control, he lightly pushed Ichigo away. They stood roughly a foot apart, staring at each other in silence. It seemed to be even more awkward than only moments before. Without really thinking, Grimmjow leaned forward, creating a repeat performance of what happened 2 weeks ago.

The blue haired man tucked an arm securely around Ichigo's rigid waist, the other sliding from the nape of his neck into his hair. The younger man quickly began to relax, taking part in the kiss and casting all of his previous worries away. What was the point in fighting it when they both knew that both parties wanted it? Ichigo frowned into the kiss, tasting tobacco from Grimmjow's recent cigarette. Again, both sides fought for dominance in the kiss, pushing against each other harder and harder.

Before a victor could be decided, Grimmjow pulled away, immediately attacking the orange haired man's lightly tanned neck. He began every kind of torture he learned from his previous relationships--sucking, biting, kissing the skin. As he felt a shiver wrack his body, followed by a pleasant chill shooting down his spine, Ichigo realized he had no idea what to do. Having never been in this situation and feeling these sensations, all he could do was surrender to them.

His head lolled back, a strained groan falling from his lips as Grimmjow slowly made his way further down his neck. Ichigo flinched when the older man bit the portion of skin where neck met shoulder. He vaguely heard Grimmjow chuckle above him, causing a spark to go off in his head. He was not one to be outdone.

Especially not by Grimmjow.

Ichigo stepped back slightly, ignoring the confused look that crossed the older man's face. He quickly stepped back forward, wrapping his arms around Grimmjow's neck and planting a chaste kiss on the mouth. He pulled back and then leaned forward once more, giving another chaste kiss--except this time, he swiped his tongue against the other man's lips. Just as he was about to open his mouth to allow the kiss, Grimmjow was surprised and confused once more. Ichigo pulled away, a smirk painted mischievously across his face.

Ichigo brought his lips back dangerously close to the older man's, before retreating slightly in favor of kissing the man's jawline. He followed the jawline, all the way up to his ear, licking the lobe. A groan fell from Grimmjow, spurring Ichigo further. While he didn't really know what to do on exact terms, his body seemed to get the general idea. He began a slow, long lick down from the man's ear across the jaw, stopping just before the chin. When Ichigo began his descent to Grimmjow's neck, the blue haired man let out another deep groan, grabbing hold of his attacker's hips for leverage.

The orange haired man abused Grimmjow's neck, clumsily mimicking what the man had been doing to him previously. He made his way down, stopping at the adam's apple. He swirled his tongue along it, before giving a cautious yet particularly strong nibble on it. Grimmjow clenched his teeth, a restrained moan reverberating from his throat. He couldn't take this anymore--he never really was the patient type.

Grimmjow quickly pulled the smaller man away, spinning him around and them bringing him into another embrace, the younger man's back against his chest. Grimmjow really wanted to growl. There were too many clothing articles in his way. He pushed the thought back. They really didn't need to be ripping clothes off. Besides, knowing his luck, Ichigo would just get pissed that he ripped up one of his designs.

Grimmjow shook his head, pushing _all_ thoughts back. There was no longer a need to think anymore. All that was left was to let their bodies do as they pleased. The blue haired man leaned over Ichigo's shoulder, swiping a tongue at the man's ear. Pleased with the shiver he received, he began lightly nibbling on it, delighting in how the skin of the man in front of him erupted in goosebumps.

Grimmjow slid his hands around the man's sides, slowly bringing them lower and lower down his shirt and to the man's pants. He slipped his hands underneath Ichigo's shirt, an abrupt hiss coming from Ichigo at the unexpectedly cold touch. The sensations held skyrocketing pleasure, all building up to a peaking point. It all come spiraling down for him, however, when the orange haired man felt large hands slip underneath his pants and into his boxers.

The older man didn't notice Ichigo's new-found rigidity, continuing in his pursuit of pleasure. Ichigo's rigidity receded slightly as he began to writhe with the pleasure, pushing himself backwards onto Grimmjow to instinctually give him more space to work with.

Grimmjow brought his other hand underneath the Ichigo's shirt up to the man's dusty nipples. Rubbing against one of the nipples, he began his attack on the younger man's neck once more. He continued pleasuring Ichigo below, wanting to laugh at how Ichigo was presenting himself. The man had brought his hands behind him, threading his fingers through blue strands of hair. As Grimmjow licked and kissed and sucked at his neck, he leaned his head away, stretching his neck to give the older man more access. He was slowly spreading his legs as he got closer and closer to his peak. Grimmjow could definitely say that he was enjoying the moment.

Ichigo was unable to keep up with exactly what was going on. All he knew was that the pleasure was building at a rapid pace, a heat gathering at his lower abdomen. He vaguely registered the scent, a musky sex smell along with the dimmed scent of cinnamon and tobacco. All of his thoughts were covered in a thick haze, all rationality dimmed by the overwhelming sense of sheer pleasure humming through his body. He let out a groan when Grimmjow gave a particularly fierce bite on his neck, no doubt leaving a mark. A rush of sensation hit Ichigo, forcing him just to the edge of his peak. _Only a bit further..._

Ichigo felt the warning waves starting to hit him, forcing him to throw his head back. He turned slightly, biting down on Grimmjow's neck to keep a moan quiet. When Grimmjow released a groan of his own, however, reality slammed into Ichigo like a bullet train. All in one moment, he registered everything that was going on--the hand job, the groan in his ear, the rubbing on his nipples, the saliva on his neck, and the feeling of being poked in the ass.

The orange haired man threw himself from Grimmjow's embrace, fiercely yanking his shirt down and staring wide-eyed in the blue haired man's direction. Grimmjow was frozen in place, staring straight back at the younger man. He finally started to register just how severe those actions could have turned out to be. Ichigo had never really trusted people all that much, and in turn, likely never had any relationships. He just progressed from kissing to major molestation within minutes.

Things had begun to progress too fast.

Moments passed, the atmosphere growing more and more awkward as the panic on both sides started to build. Finally, Ichigo discreetly pulled his pants up to rest comfortably to rest on his hips before turning around and marching out the front door. Grimmjow watched, frozen solid as Ichigo's image disappeared behind the door.

As Grimmjow stood there and stared at the door with a semi-hard cock and mussed hair, he couldn't help but recall a saying that he had heard once before.

Progression and change is needed to move forward. But too much too fast can hold a terrible downfall.

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	10. Kidnapper

Started June 4th.

Completed June 11th.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s):** I do not own Bleach. If I did, Soifon would have been kicking major ass right from the beginning of her fight. (You guys who are up-to-date on the manga should know what I'm talking about.)

**Warning:**

Violence

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 9**

**"Kidnapper"**

**

* * *

  
**

Ichigo had spent the night with Cirucci, a few floors down. They had become pretty good friends over the months, though many secrets were still kept between them (mainly on Ichigo's part). Feeling too uncomfortable to return to any place that Grimmjow was, Ichigo had called up Nel and asked to stay with her. He felt a bit guilty about the request, knowing that the woman wouldn't turn him down no matter what the situation was, but... he felt it couldn't be helped.

Nel quickly arrived to take Ichigo back to her apartment a few miles away. The drive there was rather quiet before the woman decided to start up small talk. "So..." The green haired woman shifted slightly in her seat and tightened her hands on the steering wheel momentarily before she glanced over to Ichigo. "I didn't know you had a cell phone. When did you get it?"

The orange haired man snapped his eyes from the window that he had been staring out of to see earnest green eyes watching him in curiosity. Somehow, he knew that wasn't what she had wanted to ask, but... he could play along for now.

"My dad kinda forced it on me a few weeks ago. Said it was really hard to contact me since I wasn't always at... home." He said the word hesitantly, unsure if the place that he had been thinking about could really be considered home anymore. Nel just nodded, not knowing what thoughts were going through the man's head.

"Yeah. I know what you mean. Grimm never really does anything for himself, so I could imagine how you would be the one going out for errands all the time." Ichigo twitched slightly. He couldn't help but notice how the woman had blatantly and quite obviously brought the conversation back around to Grimmjow. He held back a sigh, waiting for what was to come. There was a momentary silence before Nel confirmed his suspicions.

"So... do you mind telling me what my brother did to you?" Ichigo was mischievously pleased that Nel automatically assumed that it was Grimmjow's fault. Releasing a sigh, brown eyes turned back to the roadside. Ichigo maintained his silence. Nel didn't push the matter any further, knowing that he would spill sometime soon.

As they turned onto her apartment's road, Ichigo said, "things just began happening a bit too fast." A delicate green eyebrow rose, but she kept quiet. Ichigo watched as the surroundings of the street began to gain a more commercial feel rather than industrial. He blew out another sigh, wishing that he could get over this problem by himself. But he knew he couldn't. He had no experience with relationships and had no idea how to feel about anything anymore. And the stalker problem certainly wasn't any help.

The small car pulled into an empty parking space, Nel and Ichigo both opening up their individual doors. The orange haired man proceeded after Nel, trying to sort his thoughts into sentences. He kept opening and shutting his mouth as they walked along the path and into a small building. Nel merely kept silent, patiently waiting for his thoughts to become words. They made their way to a back hallway, stopping in front of a door. The woman pulled out some keys and unlocked the door, opening it up and then pushing the confused man in.

Not even bothering to observe his surroundings, Ichigo made his way to the couch sitting in the middle of the living room. Nel slowly made her way over to him. "He tried..." He rubbed his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. "He tried to 'get me into bed'." He turned away, refusing to meet Nel's eyes.

The green haired woman halted in her advance, eyes widening as the words quickly clicked. She scowled slightly, muttering under her breath, "damned idiotic man. Doesn't he know better than to pull shit like this?" Although Ichigo couldn't hear exactly what she was saying, he could figure out the basic gist. He leaned back, hanging his head over the back of the plush couch. "I..." He halted, not knowing exactly what he had been trying to say. Letting out another aggravated sigh, he opened his eyes, viewing the room (the part that was behind the couch) upside down. Nel made her way to the love seat that sat across from the couch, comfortably sliding into the cushions.

"So he came onto you." Ichigo winced at the blunt statement that confirmed Grimmjow's actions. Ichigo nodded slightly, closing his eyes once more. He struggled with his vocal chords, finding it hard to speak in such an odd position. "Yes... and it wouldn't have been so bad if..." Nel looked up, eyes wide once more. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" She waved her hands dramatically, not even thinking about the fact that Ichigo couldn't see her from his position. She sat forward excitedly, eyes shining in glee. "Does that mean that you actually _like_ Grimmjow? Like... _like_?"

He shot his head up, staring at the woman. _Shit_. "I. Well. No... just.." He blew out a tired breath of air, exasperated. "Fine. Yes."

Nel let out a short squeal, practically bouncing in her seat. She started talking to herself at a furious pace, unable to contain her excitement. He twitched when he caught the words 'brother-in-law' and 'hot sex'. Ichigo sunk back into the cushions, rubbing his temples. Nel finally slowed in her mini spaz-attack and fixed her eyes back on the man before her. "So..." she let out a breath of air, trying to regain expended energy. "He tried to push things a little too fast." She was back to her serious self. Ichigo almost wanted to bury his face in the cushions. This really wasn't a subject that he was perfectly comfortable with. And the fact that he was speaking to the subject's sister just made it that much more awkward for him.

He steeled himself, nodding mechanically. Nel stared unseeingly at him for a moment, contemplating on what to say. "Well..." She blinked, bringing her sight back to this world. "I suppose that's good for you." Ichigo's face fell into utter confusion. Nel shook her head, a smile gracing her face. "Don't let him push you too fast. Keep the relationship going at your pace--because everyone knows Grimm's pace is way too fast." She laughed lightly, partially at what she said and partially at Ichigo's bewildered expression. She stood up from the couch and made her way to a closet, pulling out a blanket and pillow. She tossed them in Ichigo's direction, the man easily catching them.

"Well, I think it's best that you get some sleep. By the looks of it, you didn't get much sleep last night while you were at Cirucci's," she said, indicating the bags underneath Ichigo's eyes. "I don't think you're going to be here very long anyways." She ignored the man's questioning gaze as she made her way to her bedroom. Stepping inside, she smiled out at Ichigo. "Goodnight," she said before quietly shutting her door.

Ichigo stared at the door for a moment, wondering what she meant when she said he wasn't going to be here very long. He shrugged, unable to come to a suitable answer. Spreading out the blanket over himself and turning over, he gave himself up to the world of dreams.

**

* * *

**

Ichigo groaned, wishing that he could sleep longer. He was not happy that daylight had already made its appearance. He reached up and rubbed at his eyes, yawning and stretching. When he finally opened his eyes, however, he let out a yelp and sat back quickly, slamming his head on the back of the couch. Green hair filtered into his vision, a bright smile plastered across Nel's face as she looked down on him.

"Have a nice slumber, sleepy-head?" She maintained her wide smile, her eyes twinkling with untold delight. She leaned back with a happy sigh, stretching her arms up and rotating her shoulders. Ichigo leaned forward slightly, having regained his composure. He discreetly rubbed at the newly formed bump on the back of his head.

Nel giggled, having noticed the movement. The orange haired man merely ignored her, unwilling to admit his surprise. She gave a sly chuckle and tugged the blanket away from his lap, throwing it carelessly behind her. This gained Ichigo's attention.

"What?" He asked automatically, his voice thick with sleep. He watched her, feeling the need to be cautious with the smile that she was presenting him. At the one-word-question, her smile grew. "I told you!" She threw her hair over her shoulder, watching for the man's questioning gaze. When she caught sight of his expression, she put her hands on her hips, fingers twitching slightly. "You aren't going to be staying here!" The green haired woman pointed in the direction of the kitchen, where, if one were listening quite closely, they could hear light clattering of dishes. As Ichigo stared at the kitchen doorway in silence, Nel let out a devious chuckle, hidden behind a posh slender hand.

"Big brother came to pick you up." When Ichigo's gaze snapped back to her, she registered the many emotions that were whirling through his head. Fear, anger, joy, and the awkwardness of not knowing how to react. She leaned forward and tugged on his wrist, pulling the surprised man up to his feet. She lightly pushed him in the direction of the kitchen, watching with a small smile as he slowly made his way through the door.

When his footfalls stopped, Ichigo looked up from the floor to find Grimmjow watching him quietly. They both stayed silent, watching the person opposite. Ichigo was unable to make any movements as Grimmjow stood up from the small dining table and made his way to the orange haired man, stopping a few feet before him. Grimmjow released a pent-up sigh, turning his head to the side and running an awkward hand through his hair. "Um..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the need to move before turning back to Ichigo. "Do you want to... just go get something to eat..?"

Ichigo was floored. He never expected Grimmjow to ask something along those lines at this point in time. Brown eyes glanced off to the side as the shorter man shifted his balance from one foot to the other. Finally coming to a decision, Ichigo turned his gaze back onto the blue haired man, nodding firmly.

"Okay."

**

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**

Ichigo tugged his hat down a bit further, vaguely wondering how and why the hell they always seemed to end up in the same damned cafe. He glanced around at the very familiar quaint cafe, silently observing the people, desperately trying to avoid the reality of the situation.

The main reality being the man sitting in front of him.

He ignored the way Grimmjow kept staring at him, probably willing him to return the attention. He ignored how the blue haired man would shift, no doubt fishing for words to start the conversation. He ignored how he would brush blue hair out of his face in annoyance. He ignored how the man would tap his foot, impatient with the lack of words being said between the pair.

Okay, so the ignoring wasn't working out quite that well. Big deal.

Grimmjow cleared his throat, having finally found what he wanted to say. Ichigo wanted to curse when his head automatically snapped in the man's direction. He was a little too attuned to the man before him. It was frustrating to say the least.

"Alright." Grimmjow seemed to have lost his train of thought as his face twisted into a grimace. He pulled another hand through his hair, stopping to scratch subconsciously at his neck. "I would like to... apologize." His voice lowered on the last word, almost unheard by Ichigo. But the man had heard it. Deciding to spare him the awkwardness and discomfort, Ichigo nodded and turned away, glancing off in some random direction. What right did he have to be the reason that Grimmjow lost face?

Grimmjow was a bit grateful for the gesture, though, again, he would never admit it. He scratched at his cheek, sorting his thoughts out a bit. He was, in no way, going to make a fool of himself. He was never going to be reduced to a man that was head-over-heels, spouting his confessions of love at any and every waking moment. He would rather be tortured and buried alive before he did that. Grimmjow winced at his train of thoughts. _Shit_. He thought to himself. _Get to the fucking point._

He was about to slam his fists on the table before he caught himself. He shook his hands slightly before lowering them and lightly laying them on the table top. "I fucked up." Ichigo twitched in the seat across from him, showing that he was indeed listening. "I didn't stop to think about all the shit that's been going around or about the situation. I was being a god-damned bastard." Ichigo smirked, seeing his reflection in the glass of the shop. Ah, how good it felt to have Grimmjow being on the guilty side. He instinctively knew that these types of moments were rare if not non-existent. He had to enjoy the moment while it lasted, else he had little chance of experiencing it again.

The blue haired man _really_ wanted to just reach over and smack the smirk off of his companion's face, but he knew that wouldn't help things very much. He just hoped to hell that this was going to pay off in his favor. He wasn't stupid. He knew that there was a major _mutual_ attraction between them. He knew that there was most likely _more_ than just attraction. But either way, if he played his cards right, their relationship would be speeding along nicely. A half-smirk spread across his face.

Ichigo, from his position on the opposite side of the table, deemed Grimmjow's dignity safe, and turned to see the man's expression. He almost instantly knew what was going through his head. Deciding to be a bit of a sadist, he hid a devilish smirk behind his hand.

Due to Ichigo's skillful evading, the topic of their relationship never came up for the rest of the night.

**

* * *

**

A lightly tanned hand brushed bright orange hair out of brown eyes. As he gazed up at the building, Ichigo couldn't help but feel intimidated. He was a fucking work-at-home fashion designer. The only time he ever stepped into such large buildings was for Rukia--as he would help out the woman's company from time to time. But even then, that building was almost like a second or third home to him. It had always felt that way ever since he had stomped through the front doors, demanding to see Rukia's brother--Kuchiki Byakuya--so that he could punch the man's face in. The guy had been a bastard to his sister for the longest time and it had just continued to escalate. Ichigo was proud to say that the problem was resolved.

"Why the hell should I wait for the bastard here, anyways?" He muttered to himself. He sucked in a breath and stepped through the large automatic doors, heading for the nearest receptionist that he could find. When he stopped in front of the closest desk, the lady behind the computer looked up and stared at him for a moment. Ichigo merely raised his eyebrow.

"You are... Kurosaki Ichigo... right?" She prodded cautiously. He nodded slightly, pulling nervously on his hat. She tossed her brown hair behind her shoulder and tapped the keys on her computer for a second before turning the monitor around to Ichigo with a smile. Ichigo studied the map on the screen as the lady pointed out which room he was supposed to go to. "It's going to be on the 10th floor." He nodded at the information, remembering that Grimmjow had told him before. Floors 1-9 were for customers and guests, floors 11 and up were for individual departments and floor 10 was strictly for meetings between the department heads.

He quickly made his way to the specified floor, slowly working his way through the route planned in his head. Why the hell didn't they have maps sitting outside the elevators or something? He should complain about this...

Ichigo stopped outside of the room and knocked slightly, hearing a muffled 'come in'. He stepped in and shut the door behind himself quietly, feeling unnerved at the instant attention he gained. Every single person in the room had their attention on him--and it wasn't just a couple of people. There was evidently a very _large_ variety of departments in this particular conglomerate. He nodded his head slightly in their general direction, catching sight of a few people he knew. Grimmjow, Aporro and Ulquiorra were there, along with a shitload of faces he had never seen before.

He caught the familiar blue eyes, blinking slightly when the man tossed his head to a small bunch of chairs sitting at the wall of the room. He walked as confidently as he could across the room, picking a random chair before he plopped down in it. After a bit of chaos from the employees (apparently the president of the company had decided it wasn't in his best interest to show up), the meeting finally commenced. Ichigo tuned out the gibberish that he couldn't even hope to understand. After a few minutes of boredom, he turned his gaze to the large window, vaguely noting that it was a lot like the one in their apartment.

Brown eyes widened slightly as he felt a familiar prickly sensation. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to the extended table where the meeting was in full swing. As he sat there and discreetly watched each of the employees, he noticed that three people kept on glancing in his direction. He frowned slightly, not liking where his thoughts were starting to direct him.

_I'm being watched._

Ichigo slowly sucked in a shaky breath, willing himself to stay calm. So it really was more than one person. Even more than that, it seemed that they were connected to Grimmjow's company. He shook his head slightly, reprimanding himself. Just because a couple of people seemed to be watching him in this room, it didn't mean that they were his stalkers. They could just be curious as to why he was there... or something.

He blew out a breath, pushing the thoughts away. He wasn't going to think about this. He refused to put a damper on the day. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since Grimmjow apologized (surprisingly literally) and he didn't want to force himself back into unreasonable fear. But he couldn't exactly help it--his instincts were _screaming_ at him, telling him to just _run_.

Glancing back at the table with a new determination, he picked out every little detail about the people watching him. A tall skinny man with dark brown, nearly-shoulder-length hair; a large, buff black man (who seemed to have a tattoo, if the dark ink peeking from his dress shirt was any indication) and lastly, an elderly, Mexican-looking man, also a bit large and with scars on his face. He watched them quietly--the lanky one maintaining silence, the buff black man giving a loud, booming chuckle every so often, and the elderly man interjecting a strong, no-shit tone opinion here and there. Each of them seemed very suspicious to him in their own ways, but... he blew out a quiet sigh, willing himself to concentrate on something else.

After another half-hour of maddening panic and boredom, the meeting was finally called to an end. Grimmjow walked up to him, a tall, tan-skinned, blond woman behind him. "Yo, Ichi." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, at the quiet beauty. "This is Halibel. She's head of the weapons department." Ichigo's eyes widened slightly at this. He knew that conglomerates were very diverse, but... wasn't a weapons department just pushing it? Grimmjow raised an eyebrow at his odd tenseness, before continuing to speak. "This is him, Hal. Ichigo--the one who moved in with me." The blond woman took no notice of Ichigo's discomfort, offering a nod of the head and a quiet 'good afternoon'. Ichigo gave a nervous chuckle, giving his own polite greeting.

Grimmjow, seeming to be happy with the simple interaction between the two, tugged on the edge of Ichigo's hat. "You know, it isn't polite to wear hats in a meeting room." A lightly tanned hand swatted the darker one away. "Bah. I'm not the one in the meeting. I was just waiting for your bastard ass." Grimmjow gave a feral smirk. "Yeah. I know. Let's go." He waltzed out of the room, ignoring how most of the department heads lingered for minor conversation. The orange haired man gave a slight wave in Ulquiorra and Aporro's direction, followed by one to Halibel before he turned and marched after the blue haired man.

**

* * *

**

"Alright. I give. Why the hell do we keep ending up at this place?" Ichigo looked around at the cafe, wondering why the hell he found himself at the quaint little place for the second time in two days. Grimmjow shrugged from across from him. "I don't know. I like this place." He gave a smirk to the waitress who set their meals down in front of them, not even really paying attention to how she broke out in a blush. He watched as Ichigo rolled his eyes, picking up his fork and preparing to dig into the fluffy omelette before him.

The blue haired man cleared his throat, reaching down and picking up a box in the seat beside him when he had Ichigo's full attention. He placed the box on the table and shoved it across to Ichigo, careful not to knock anything over. Ichigo stared at the box in question, wondering why the hell the man was looking so expectant. Grimmjow rolled his eyes, poking at the box. "Open it, dumbass." Orange eyebrows furrowed as he reached up and pulled it open. His eyes lit up almost instantly at the contents. "Holy fuck..." he said in marveling wonder.

Grimmjow gave a soft smirk, not _quite_ a smile. "Do you like it?" Ichigo nodded quickly, pulling out an art pack, filled with different kinds of utensils, ranging from pastels to paints to charcoal pencils. Underneath, lay a brand-new leather-bound sketchbook. He stared at the gifts in his hand, sending a questioning glance across the table. "What the hell..?" Grimmjow leaned back a bit.

"Happy birthday, kiddo." Ichigo's eyes widened as he stilled. He stared at Grimmjow, wonder in his expression. The blue haired man continued, not noticing how Ichigo's demeanor seemed to become more and more sullen by the moment. "You never even noticed it was your birthday, did you? I mean, I suppose it's only fucking natural considering the recent problems that have been going around, but... today's July the seventh. It's your--" He stopped. "What?" he asked when he noticed Ichigo had seemed to space out. The man maintained his silence, before his quiet answer was heard.

"My birthday just hasn't been a good day for the past eleven years."

Grimmjow's brow furrowed. Who the hell didn't enjoy their birthday? As he watched the man across from him, he supposed that he had just found the perfect example. The rest of the meal continued in silence after a quiet 'thank you' was heard from Ichigo.

**

* * *

**

The moment the two entered the apartment, Ichigo knew that they were not alone. As he rounded the corner to the living room, he saw many familiar faces. Aporro sat on the couch having a one-way conversation with Ulqiuorra as Halibel sat off on the leather chair, listening to the chat. Nel spotted Ichigo and bounded over to him with a wide smile. "So. How has everything been going for the past..." She glanced at the clock. "Thirty-five hours since I last saw you?"

Ichigo blinked, glancing around the occupied room and setting down his gift. "Um. Good. What the hell is going on?" Grimmjow stepped out from behind him, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Shit. I forgot to tell you--every time we have a major meeting, these dumbasses like to come over here for a nice chat afterward." Brown eyes blinked once more, glancing first at Ulquiorra and then Halibel. Aporro, he could understand. But Ulquiorra and Halibel? He couldn't really see them as the people-person type. It was actually bugging him a bit, but he voiced a different question. "Then why is Nel here?" Said green haired woman offered him a wide smile. "I used to work in the same company." She ignored Ichigo's widened eyes. "So I like to pop in and chat with my ex-coworkers from time to time. By the way," she directed her question to her brother, "where is that crazy guy? I forgot his name.." Grimmjow looked up. "Oh. Nnoitra?" He shrugged. "I have no idea. He said he was going to be busy or something."

Ichigo settled in to the small space left on the couch, vaguely listening in on the conversation. Soon enough, the talk was hyped, everyone in the room poking in their own opinion at whatever the current topic was. Ichigo very rarely offered his own opinion as he could barely keep up with the constant topic changes.

The night went on with the offhand conversation, each of the room's occupants growing comfortable in their individual seats. Aporro stood from his seat a bit before midnight whilst glancing at Nel, pulling Grimmjow and Ulquiorra off to the kitchen for a small chat of their own. Ichigo watched after them, wondering why they needed the privacy. When he was left alone with the two other women, however, he wanted to gulp at the analytical look that Halibel was sending him and the devious grin that Nel wore.

"So, Itsugo. How is everything? You did a spectacular job of dodging the subject when you first got here." This time, he really did gulp. Dear god, he was like a half-dead rabbit left in the clutches of a starving vulture. He pushed back into the couch a bit, determined to continue avoiding the question. Nel gave him a dirty look, sending a glance to the blond woman in the leather chair a few feet away. Before she could ask the woman to help in the interrogation, a loud banging was heard outside of the front door. All of their attention was then focused on the main corridor, each expression ranging from confusion to worry. "What the hell was th--" Ichigo was cut off as an unmistakable _crack_ resounded through the room.

Someone had just broken the front door down.

The three men that had previously left the room exited the kitchen. Grimmjow had no time to think as someone shot down the corridor, pulling back a fist and sending it flying right at him. He quickly side-stepped the attack, only able to dodge the brunt of the attack. He stepped back a bit, setting his body into a defensive stance and resisting the urge to reach up to his face where a bruise would soon form. Across the room, Ichigo sat there, stunned.

The man (presumably, at least--by the figure) stood in front of Grimmjow. Strangely enough, however, a plain white mask covered his face, only the jaw accentuated. Each little groove of the jaw was so precise, it seemed almost like a masterpiece. The rest of the mask, though, was just plain, blank white. The man himself was quite buff, clothed head to toe in nothing but _white_. Ichigo felt his heart race as he inhaled quickly.

_So soon?_

Nel, meanwhile, felt her own fear. Her hands shook slightly as she glanced over at Halibel and nodded. When the blond haired woman nodded back, she turned her gaze back on the attacker. "This couldn't be... right?" She whispered under her breath, denial coating her words.

The man immediately engaged Grimmjow in a fight, Aporro quickly taking a part in the battle, making quick, precise movements. The masked man let out a chuckle, strangely and eerily familiar to all in the room. Before anybody could question the familiarity, two more figures appeared from the corridor, each with the same type of mask. One mask had an accentuated crown at the top, the man himself seeming a bit big. White hairs were visibly peeking from the back of his head, suggesting that he was older. The taller masked man had, oddly enough, an extra attachment to the mask--a hanging jaw. His hair was very much visible, wavy brown hair tied back in a pony-tail. Ichigo nearly felt his heart stop when he found these characteristics, freezing as his mind began to race, zeroing in on all of the details. It clicked when he rewound a bit, going through his memory.

_Could it be..?_

The masked man with the crown slowly made his way into the room, heading directly towards Ichigo. Ulquiorra stepped in front of the frozen man, applying quick attacks in the man's direction. He blocked all attacks from the quiet green-eyed man, throwing his own blows back every once in a while. Nel and Halibel headed straight for the taller man who had not yet engaged in a fight. The man let out a quiet sigh, barely heard among the ruckus and began lazy attacks at the two women. Grimmjow and Aporro landed fierce attacks on their opponent, striking him in as many places as they could. The burly man let out another chuckle, swinging his arm around. The pink haired man was sent flying backwards, hitting the wall with a loud _thump_, causing the small table next to him to fall over.

Grimmjow dodged around an attack aimed at him, chancing a glance around. He spotted Ichigo, backing up from his spot on the couch and making his way over the back of it. His attention was so absorbed on the man that he never noticed a punch heading straight to his stomach. He let out a loud groan, clutching his gut as he moved as swiftly as he could out of the way of another attack.

Nel took up the main position of her fight, distracting the man in front of her as Halibel stood back and made surprise attacks every now and then. The brown haired man dodged each attack, readying to send a major blow on the green haired woman before him. Meanwhile, in Ulquiorra's fight, he was sent tumbling into the couch as Ichigo watched in horror. "Shit..." _This is all my fault._

Adrenaline began its course through his veins. He wasn't going to just sit here and watch all of this happen. He threw himself over the back of the couch, sending a kick at the man who had previously been attacking Ulquiorra. The man was caught by surprise and stumbled back a few feet when Ichigo's blow hit the man's side. He didn't want to give the man any chance to think, immediately raining blows on the same side. The man of the crown mask seemed to regain his previous tenor and caught a punch, throwing him back and causing his hat to fall off, revealing his orange hair. Ichigo hit the ground next to Halibel and Nel's fight, panic clawing his insides as the man they were fighting noticed him. Nel noticed the crowned man coming after him and yelled, "Shit! _Ichigo!!" _She immediately blocked an attack from the man, Halibel throwing a swift kick at the man.

They seemed to switch opponents as Ichigo now stared up at the tall, thin man. He pulled up a leg, ready to stomp on Ichigo's stomach. The young man immediately set into action, rolling to the side and swinging a foot under the man's legs. The masked man anticipated this, jumping up and preparing another blow. He aimed a kick at the man's thigh, delighting in the raider's groan. He pushed himself up from the ground, sending a punch at the man, growling as it was dodged. Finally having had enough, he executed a well-aimed high-kick, hitting him in the upper arm. A pleasant _snap_ was heard as the man gave a loud groan of pain. Angry at being hurt, the attacker threw back a blow of his own, kicking Ichigo backwards into the coffee table.

The glass of the table shattered, Ichigo laying in the middle of it. There were major cuts on his legs and arms, small, steady trickles of blood erupting from each cut. Grimmjow, in his fight, was sent flying backwards, immediately getting up to make his way over to Ichigo, having seen him bloodied up. Szayel had already pushed himself back up long ago, taking over the fight with the large man. Before Grimmjow was able to make his way to Ichigo's side, however, the tall, lanky man that had been fighting the orange haired man stopped beside Ichigo, reaching into his jacket. Grimmjow couldn't see what the man was reaching for, though.

He hit a pressure point in the Ichigo's neck, knocking him out. Finally, the object made its appearance, the gleaming metal of the object making Grimmjow's blood run cold. He immediately froze, eyes glued to the man holding Ichigo hostage.

The man cleared his throat, the other two masked individuals halting in their fights. Halibel, Nel and Szayel froze in their spots, confused by the happening. Ulquiorra slowly stood up from the other side of the couch and spotted the gun being aimed at Ichigo's head. He immediately glanced at Grimmjow, seeing the pained expression on his face. He slowly raised his hands in surrender, keeping quiet. The other three finally saw exactly what was going on, a quiet gasp erupting from Nel as she grasped the reality of the situation.

Gun still aimed at the side of Ichigo's head, the man gave a lazy chuckle as each of the occupants raised their hands in surrender. "Well, it's been rather fun, but..." He dug the muzzle of the gun further into orange locks. Grimmjow growled and stepped forward, knowing it was a bad move, but feeling the urgency to save Ichigo.

"Ah, ah, ah." The big burly man behind him sounded, quickly pulling a knife out and throwing it in Grimmjow's direction. It gave a neat slice in the blue haired man's cheek, embedding itself in the wall a few feet in front of him. He turned slightly, glancing at the large man behind him.

_A warning shot._

"Oi. Get over here." The burly man that Grimmjow had been fighting seemed to take that as a cue. He stepped over to the brown haired man, reaching down and hauling the unconscious man over his shoulder. As he carried Ichigo to the front door, he looked over his shoulder. "So the kid broke your arm, huh?" He let out another chuckle. The man who had previously been holding Ichigo hostage just stayed silent. The man with the crown mask, made his way to the door after him, pushing him through. As he followed them, the brown haired man stopped in the doorway when he heard Grimmjow ask a question full of malice.

"Why the fuck are you doing this?"

The man paused, looking over his shoulder before facing forward. "It's best that you do not know. This man, Kurosaki Ichigo, has been involved with some pretty deep stuff. Unless you want to end up dead, I suggest you stay as uninvolved as possible." With that, the man took his leave, leaving behind a thick, sorrowful atmosphere.

Nel collapsed to the floor, tears slowly beginning to stream from her eyes. Halibel, Szayel and Ulquiorra stayed quiet, unsure of how to react to the situation. Each of them knew that they couldn't follow--if they did, Ichigo's life would most definitely be in jeopardy.

As Grimmjow observed his damaged living room, he felt fear and anger twist themselves together, burning through his bloodstream. Devastation was working it's way into his body, panic clawing at his limbs as everything slowly became numb. He had promised himself that he would protect Ichigo and wouldn't let anything come between them. He had promised himself that nothing would put Ichigo in the direct path of harm again. He had promised that he wouldn't lose him.

And he had just lost Ichigo.

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	11. Pursuer

Started June 16th.

Completed June 17th.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s):** I do not own Bleach. If I did, Urahara would totally be kicking major ass in the current battles.

**Warning:**

Violence

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 10**

**"Pursuer"**

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* * *

  
**

Blue eyes sat and watched the clock, tracing the path that the second hand made, revolving in circles over and over. Nel looked at the corner of the room, noting how the broken glass from the coffee table had been sloppily swept into it to keep it out of the way. She glanced over at her brother worriedly, knowing just how much the event that had just transpired tore him up. She jumped slightly when she heard a knocking from the entrance of the apartment, forcing herself to the main entry-way. Stepping over the fragments of the front door, she beckoned for the guests to come in, urging them to be careful.

"Sorry for the short notice," Nel said, quite uncomfortable with having to be the one to say it aloud. After all, who would enjoy greeting the father of someone who had just been kidnapped? It almost tore her heart out when the man gave a pained smile.

Isshin shook his head. "No, thanks for contacting me so quickly." He stepped past Nel, over the broken wood pieces and made his way further into the apartment, his companion stepping in along behind. Nel followed the two into the living room, glancing curiously at the other man. Isshin cleared his throat, gaining the attention of Grimmjow (having already had the attention of the other occupants).

His voice rang out in a somber tone. "I would like to introduce a former colleague of mine. Meet Urahara Kisuke." The man's head dipped, blond strands of hair swaying ever so slightly from underneath the entrapment of a green and white striped fedora. Urahara's face mirrored that of Isshin's, a somber, professional expression.

Nel, having settled herself in the sofa, turned her attention away from the newcomer. Staring at Isshin, she voiced a question that had been bugging her ever since she had made the phone call to Ichigo's dad.

"Why did you not let me call the police?"

Instead of an answer from Isshin, she received a deep chuckle from the blond man standing beside him. He shifted his weight, the clogs he wore and the cane that he held clacking against the hardwood floor. "So..." He looked up and glanced at each individual sitting in a different spot. "I take it that nobody told you anything about the Kurosaki family?"

Nel sat back, conveying her answer with a mere raise of an eyebrow. Urahara glanced at his friend, receiving a simple nod. "Well you see, little lady..." He turned his attention back to the green haired woman. "This man here used to be one of the best cops on the force." Nel blinked, turning to look at her brother. Seeing no indication of surprise, she turned back to the two standing men, unable to come up with a reply.

Urahara continued, ignoring her confusion. "Besides, we can't get too many involved without our plans being foiled. The police are all about big operations. No matter how much they try to keep it covert, it ends up being the biggest thing.." He rolled his eyes. "We're going to need the utmost secrecy for this. So we're going to hand-pick who participates in this." He released a breath, trying to regain lost air. "You see, Ichigo has been through many things as a child." Isshin glanced around the room, ignoring his friend in favor of finding some sort of help for the circumstances. Seeing a silver gleam from the wall next to the bedroom door, he crossed the room in long strides, pulling the knife out of the wall. Urahara, having seen the movement, watched him as he made his way back to his side. "The biggest thing that happened was eleven years ago--" The blond man glanced at the object in Isshin's hand, nodding morosely. "And that was when he got tangled up into this mess that's going on right now."

Grimmjow, fixing his hands to a steeple supported on his knees, finally spoke for the first time since the duo arrived. "So you're telling me that you know what is going on?" Urahara stayed silent, watching the man glare at him over the tips of his fingers. After a quiet moment of analyzing him, he nodded.

The simple nod caused electric blue eyes to flash menacingly. "Then tell me how the fuck we fix this shit and get him _back_." Urahara was unfazed with the threatening tone, merely picking up the knife laying in Isshin's hand and holding it up to where it glinted in the light. "You see," he said as he stared up at at the metal. "That night eleven years ago was a nightmare for a lot of us. Especially when Ichigo stepped through the door, covered in blood and carrying a knife, bringing news of his mother's death." He ignored the gasp from Nel and the horrified looks painting the faces of everyone in the room, lowering his hand and allowing Isshin to take the knife from him.

The brown haired man held the knife away from him, his analytical stare raking over the design. "And it seems," he said, his voice hoarse, "that this knife has the exact same design as the one he brought home that night." The atmosphere was intense, multiple minds in the room linking what information they had together to make sense of the situation. Isshin looked over to Halibel, who stared at him in silence. Holding on to the sharp part of the blade, he gently tossed it to the woman, the blond easily catching it without any trouble.

She looked down at the object, her eyes widening ever so slightly before her expression hardened. She glanced up, silently demanding the two men's explanation. Ulquiorra, Grimmjow and Aporro stared in her direction, wondering exactly what was wrong. Nel voiced the question out loud. "Halibel... what's wrong? What is it?" Without removing her gaze from Ichigo's father, she ground out the answer, her voice hard with confusion.

"This knife was made in the weapons department of Espada Enterprise."

**

* * *

**

The air was putrid, thick with the scent of tar, gasoline and smoke. Beginnings of morning light began to peak through the dusty windows of the warehouse, rousing the man within.

Ichigo groaned, his body protesting the position he was currently in. All of his muscles throbbed, the predominant pain branching from the muscle connecting his neck and shoulder. He struggled to open his eyes, the rough sleep causing a groggy feeling behind his eyelids.

When brown eyes finally did open, they gave an empty stare forward, straining to clear the fog. While waiting for the blur to disappear, he took the time to focus and assess bodily damage. Moving his fingers and shifting his arms, he concluded that he was only bruised if not a little cut up. Wriggling his toes, he realized he was sitting with his legs behind him--as if he had tried sitting on his knees and gave up, sinking between his legs. His legs were otherwise in the same state as his arms. After a few minutes, the fog had been successfully blinked from his eyes, allowing him to see his surroundings.

Glancing around himself, he took in every detail. It was a really large room, with half-assed dirty marble flooring and a tall ceiling. When he looked up, he could see industrial lights supported by criss-crossing bars. The whole building was supported by multiple beams spread throughout the room. Leaning forward to get a bit of a clearer view around, he halted when his hands were caught on something.

He was handcuffed to one of the beams.

Ichigo stifled a groan, feeling uncomfortable and insecure with producing noise in such an open space. It would undoubtedly echo. And if he remembered correctly, he had been in a fight against the people in white, and then everything had just kind of... faded. He could easily guess what happened after that. And if that was what really happened, then he wanted to avoid making any attention-calling noise.

By the looks of things, the orange haired man deduced that he had been kidnapped right out of Grimmjow's apartment and taken to a warehouse. It was most likely recently abandoned, if the floors were any indication. Most older warehouses used cement flooring, while the newer ones utilized the nicer marble floorings.

Careful not to disturb any nearby people or upset his injuries, he slowly and quietly leaned back against the beam, breathing out a quiet sigh. Now that he had been captured, he knew what was likely to follow. He felt a strange calm wash over him. Something like...

Acceptance.

He had known this was going to happen. He tried to run away from it to keep it away as long as possible, but... it was inevitable. It couldn't be helped. Ichigo winced as he felt a sharp pain shoot through his temple.

_**What the hell do you think you're doing, King?**_ The enraged voice growled out, pushing itself into his foremost thoughts from the depths of his mind. As his eyes slid shut, he felt the familiar feeling of slipping into his inner-world. When he opened his eyes, however, he felt surprise course through him.

The world that Hichi had claimed as his home inside of his mind, was no longer at its previous, original glory. Instead of the magnificent tall buildings littering almost every square inch of the world, all that was left was a few buildings along with the ruins of all of the other buildings. He looked to the top of the building that he currently stood on, seeing that it, too, was beginning to crumble away into oblivion. Ichigo crouched down, brushing his fingers over the mentally-produced building side, feeling concrete evidence that it was wearing away.

"Are you going to answer me?"The menacing voice caused him to snap his head up, coming face to face with his mirror opposite. He remained silent for a moment, confused by the environment that Hichi was in. What exactly was going on? Was he finally falling apart from the pressure and stress? So it was affecting his inner-world? He clutched his head in his hands, the sharp pain having returned.

Hichi reached forward and grabbed him by the scruff of the shirt, pulling him up. As his toes hovered inches above the ground, Ichigo was forced to stare straight into the intimidating eyes of his reflection. The albino continued to push into his personal space and said, "I'll tell you what you're doing, King. You're being a coward. You're giving up." The words stung. It had hit right where it hurt the most. And the pain was increased ten-fold when he realized that it was the truth. Ichigo turned away, a look of hurt denial painting his face.

His reflection didn't even bother to try and sugar-coat his words, knowing that the harsh words would get the point across and provoke his desired reaction. He just hoped that the reaction would take effect in time. "You have been running from these people for exactly eleven years now. Do you know why people run, King? It's because they have hope for a future. A future in which everything will be pleasant and they would no longer have to run." He threw Ichigo down before glancing to the side, at the ground. As he watched the pieces of the building crumble to the ground, he formed fists at his side, baring his teeth like an animal.

"But you know something, King? Such a future doesn't just _happen_. You have to strive for it, wishing desperately to bring it into reality. You can't just sit by and hope that it happens." He turned his eyes to his orange haired opposite, no mercy in his eyes. "Work for it. Push yourself until you can no longer move, until you can no longer feel or wish or hope. Reach out to take your future into your _own_ fucking hands."

The pain in his temple started to increase to the point of him being unable to register anything else. He clutched his head, groaning in agony. Ichigo felt the world around him fade as he was pushed back into his real body in the real world. He winced, cracking his eyes open and trying to stay awake. Hichi's presence still lingered in his mind, holding still for a moment.

_**Think about it, King.**_

Hichi's presence faded into the back of his mind and Ichigo passed out once more.

**

* * *

**

It was Szayel's turn to be appalled and floored. "What the hell do you mean it's made by Espada Enterprise?" He leaned forward, eyes wide with horror. Urahara glanced at the man, tipping his hat up a bit to give a better view of his eyes. "I'm sure you can deduce exactly what that means. There are two possibilities--"

Surprisingly, he was interrupted by Ulquiorra, who quietly finished the sentence. "First possibility is that Espada Enterprise is dealing under-the-table." He glanced at Grimmjow, who's hands had tightened around each other. "Second possibility is that they created the weapons for themselves and are, in fact, the ones behind this whole mess." A wry smile spread across Urahara's face, delighted that he could keep up.

"Exactly." He pointed his cane at the green eyed man. "Thing is, we've already deduced which one it is within recent weeks." Nel stiffened, already knowing the answer. Everyone else waited for the answer, dreading the words to come out of Urahara's mouth. Both instances were terrible and absolutely atrocious, but there _was_ a better one. Unfortunately, however, their fears were realized when Isshin spoke. "It's the second one. They are indeed the ones behind this."

Grimmjow sprung up from his seat, ready to charge the blond man. Szayel had quickly stood up, though, grabbing the blue haired man by the wrist to hold him back. Halibel, having also stood up to hold him at bay, hesitantly sat back down. The blue haired man's voice was murderous, radiating utter hatred and killing intent.

"What the fuck do you _mean_ Espada Enterprise is behind this?!" His voice was low, daring Urahara to challenge him. The blond man, not fearing Grimmjow, kept his voice steady and his eyes hard. "I know it may be hard to believe, but it's the truth. While you may not be involved with it, many others in the company are." Grimmjow bared his teeth, barely trying to hold his rage back. "That is utter bullshit! There is no way--" He was interrupted by a quiet voice, Nel watching him with utter sadness.

"It's the truth, Grimm." He halted, turning to stare at his sister. She stayed quiet for a minute before leaning back with a shaky sigh. "Did you ever wonder why I didn't give you an excuse as to why I quit the company?" She turned her sad eyes away from her brother in favor of staring up at the ceiling. "They approached me one day, actually." Everyone in the room maintained utter silence, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words.

"They wanted me to join them, Grimm." Aporro released him when his arms went slack, he himself becoming enraptured with the green haired woman's words.

"I knew that they were up to no good when they said I would have to keep my identity secret when working the 'second job'. I wasn't given much detail about what the jobs entailed... They even brought me one of those masks that they had on. It gave me the creeps." Nel shivered, trying to keep herself from glancing over at her friends and family, wondering exactly what they were thinking. She wrapped her arms around herself, eye sight becoming hazy. "I immediately rejected, of course, getting out of there as fast as I could. That's when I came to you and tried to get you out of there... along with you guys." She glanced at the group around her, trying to ignore how her brother stiffened visibly.

"I couldn't say anything because it would have put everyone in danger, but... I figure now's a pretty good time to let it out in the open." She glanced at Ichigo's father, watching as he gave a slow nod, eyes distant as if he were analyzing her words. Urahara gave a light cough to break the mood up a bit, glancing at the clock. "Well then, I would like to ask that you all get some rest." Grimmjow and Nel stared at the blond man in horror, wondering how in the hell they were supposed to rest at a time such as this.

Urahara understood the looks, giving a wary sigh. "Jeez, I just can't deal with you guys." He turned and glanced at Isshin, who had probably come to his own personal conclusion of something or another. Grimmjow watched them in silence, ready to refuse any orders to rest. Isshin stared right back at him, jaw set and eyes searching.

The green haired woman finally shifted from her seat and rested a hand on her brother's thigh, meaning it to be comforting. Grimmjow jolted slightly and then relaxed. Nel looked at Isshin and voiced another question that had been bugging her for a while. "Mr. Kurosaki..." He slowly slid his gaze over to her. "Wouldn't most parents try to bring their children back home when they realized there was a threat? And why do you not seem panicked..?" She furrowed her eyebrows, truly perplexed. Urahara gave a dry laugh in response. "Do you really think that stubborn mule would come home even if his father had demanded it? Besides, do you think a former cop would really leave his son completely defenseless?"

He glanced around with a devious smile. "First of all, he left his son in the care of very reliable fighters, experienced with fighting--even if it may be street-fighting." Nel looked away, a sad expression on her face. "But even though he was left with us, they still were able to take him away..." Grimmjow glared at the ground, rubbing his bruised cheek angrily. Urahara shifted, pointing his can determinedly at the green haired young woman. "It would have been the same result had he come home with his father." Isshin looked off at the wall, his teeth clenched.

"Besides..." Urahara grinned. "We have a reason why we're not panicking here. It pays to be a former uniform." He leaned against the wall, rolling his shoulders tiredly. "The moment we knew that the company that Mr. Blue here is in was involved, we took precautions." He grinned at Grimmjow, knowing the man caught the double meaning of the name when a scowl slipped onto his face. He pointed over to Isshin, the grin still stretched across his cheeks. "If you would kindly remember, a few weeks ago, Isshin popped up to give his son a cell phone. He insisted that Ichigo would take it... for more than the reason mentioned. Now.. question: why would that be?"

Ulquiorra sat forward a bit from the chair's arm rest, his eyes knowing. "It would be... bugged, right? A tracking device?" Urahara gave a small clap, the grin growing impossibly wider. "Bravo, my friend. That would be correct!" He pushed off of the wall, his clogs clacking once more against the floor. "While the phone is probably not still on Ichigo and confiscated, it is likely nearby. All we have to do is get it on a database." Hope was renewed in Grimmjow's and Nel's eyes. They had a chance at saving Ichigo... and with help!

"So... If you would rather not rest..." The blond haired man dug into his pocket, pulling out a small notepad and pen, quickly scribbling something down on three different pages. "I would like to ask that you contact these people and have them contact the number on the bottom, or show up, if possible." He ripped out the pages and gave them to Ulquiorra, Halibel, and Szayel. "There are a bunch of different people, so splitting you up would get them together quicker.." The three nodded, not even thinking about rejecting the job. They quickly stood up and made their way out of the door. Szayel lingered in the doorway, however, glancing at Grimmjow. "Do me a favor..." When his blue haired friend looked up at him, he gave a small, firm frown. "Don't do anything reckless." He stared at his friend for a moment. When he received no answer, his frown deepened slightly, and he gave a small, hesitant nod before disappearing down the corridor.

There was a moment of silence as the four collected their thoughts. "Now..." Urahara turned to the siblings sitting on the couch side by side. "I would like to ask you two to rest a bit. I'm sure this is very mentally draining." Grimmjow was ready to let out a string of protests accompanied by very inappropriate words, but halted when Isshin held up a silencing hand. "There's no need to worry. We will allow you to participate in this.. I will allow it. I'm not blind." He held his gaze with the blue haired man, many words being said through the look.

"We will stay here in your apartment as a base of operations to track down Ichigo. We will likely make our move tonight, after the darkness sets in. But you will not be of use if you can barely even move or think." Grimmjow clenched his teeth, forcing himself to come to terms with what Isshin was saying. He knew that he really didn't have much of a choice. For him to rush in by himself likely wouldn't go very far--he needed help. And this man could provide proficient help. It made it better that it was Ichigo's father. That way Ichigo's life would be valued higher, protected at any cost. He relaxed slightly, giving a grudging nod. "Fine."

Urahara gave a simple smile, pulling out a cell phone. "Alright now that it's settled, let's get busy, Isshin." The brown haired man nodded, watching as Grimmjow and Nel made their way to the bedroom to get a bit of rest. When the door clicked shut, he glanced out the window with a pained sigh, noting that the sun had already rose. He collapsed tiredly into the deserted leather chair. Urahara came up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry." He had the cell phone poised next to his ear, staring down at his friend. "Ichigo is a tough kid. He'll be alright."

Isshin looked away, worry mixed in with his determined expression.

"Of course. He inherited that from his mother."

**

* * *

**

Nel and Grimmjow had stayed in the bedroom all day, trying to force themselves to sleep. Nel had finally given up after a few hours, however, and made her way into the bathroom, stealing a few sleeping pills for her brother and herself. They quickly choked them down and were knocked out within the next hour.

A few hours after noon, Rukia had walked through the bedroom door, telling them what she knew of the situation so far. They had gathered a few people for the operation later that night, but so far, little progress on Ichigo's whereabouts had been made. She left the room, leaving them to sleep once more.

The siblings awoke again a little before 4 o'clock. Nel had gotten out of bed to use the bathroom, while Grimmjow took the chance to see what progress had been made. When he walked in the kitchen, he found Isshin, Urahara and Rukia crowded around a laptop and a hastily laid-out map, the blond haired man tracing his fingers along a line before pausing to rest it in a particular spot. They looked up to see the groggy blue haired man and immediately sat back away from the map. Rukia watched him for a moment before gesturing him over. He walked over, peering over the paper map and glancing at the screen of the laptop.

Nel walked through the door shortly after, taking residence next to her brother. Urahara began a quick explanation. "We have located the cell phone to be right here. As we suspected, it is nowhere near where Ichigo is being held." Nel glanced up at the blond haired man, her eyebrows furrowed. "How would you know if he's with the phone or not?" Isshin shook his head. "It's registering in a very busy public building. While that would be the ideal trickery, I sincerely doubt that they would pull something like that. There is, however, a recently abandoned building on the lot that is supposed to be demolished in a few days. It would be the likely place to take him." Urahara traced his finger south a few centimeters, tapping on the spot. "That is where he is."

He glanced up at the digital clock sitting on the counter. "We still have a good 4 and a half hours before the sun sets. You guys go get as much rest as you can." Grimmjow and Nel stared at the map for a few moments longer before nodding silently and making their way back to the bedroom. After much internal thought of what was supposed to happen later that night, the two fell asleep once more.

They didn't awake until almost half-past six. Nel had stirred in her sleep, jolting her brother awake. She sat up, apologizing to him and muttering about bladder problems before taking off for the bathroom. Grimmjow sat in the bed, alone with his crushing thoughts. He sat there, wondering exactly how Ichigo felt at that exact moment. He ran over the time he had been with the orange haired man in his head, going through every memory. When he came to the part when Ichigo had been distancing himself because of his memories, however, he paused. After a few moments of contemplation, he came to a decision. Yanking out a pen and paper from his bedside table, he hastily scrawled something down before crossing over to his closet, pulling on some new clothes. He then opened the bedroom door quietly, glancing around cautiously. When he saw nobody around, he stepped out and shut the door behind him quickly, making his way across the threshold and to the main corridor.

Mere seconds after he walked out the front door and pressed the button for the elevator, Nel had finished up in the bathroom and entered the bedroom once more. When she didn't see the shock blue hair of her brother, she felt her stomach drop. Her eyes zeroed in on the small white square on the navy blue sheets of the bed, running over to it and snatching it up. After reading it, her eyes widened and she ran out of the room and straight into the kitchen.

"We have a problem." She quickly gained their attention, Isshin and Rukia looking up in alarm while Urahara just had a sad smile spread across his face. Nel handed the paper over to the blond haired man, watching as he read it. When Rukia and Ichigo's father read it over his shoulder, their eyes widened. Urahara, on the other hand, merely set the paper on the counter, turning back to the panicked green haired woman.

"I can't say I'm surprised. There's nothing we can do. We'll have to go after him along with Ichigo later on tonight."

Nel gave a pained sigh, heart heavy as she glanced on the note lying innocently on the counter. She never knew a simple sheet of paper could bring so much bad news. There was little writing on the note, hastily scrawled on the rumpled parchment. It was so short that she could easily remember it with no trouble at all.

_'Sorry. I can't let him suffer through this alone.'_

**

* * *

**

He had abandoned his precious car a few miles off, knowing that it would bring unwanted attention to him. As he glanced down at his watch, he noted the time, finding that the operation would commence in only a few hours. The sooner the better.

Grimmjow came closer to the warehouse, absolutely sure that this was the one. He hastily darted to the side wall, hunkering down low, hoping desperately that he wasn't seen. While he knew the chances of him saving Ichigo by himself were little to none, he still had to make the attempt. There was no way in hell he was just going to give up right off the bat.

He scooted a discarded box that had been lying nearby underneath one of the grungy windows, stepping up onto it. It wouldn't hold for long, but he just needed a quick glance of the inside...

He felt his heart race when he spied a flash of orange, instantly knowing that it was the familiar orange hair that he had been looking for. He felt his fingers twitch, itching to bust the glass of the window and climb through the small hole. His thoughts were cut short, however, when he felt his feet fall out from under him and found himself staring down the barrel of a shiny pistol.

Grimmjow felt panic claw at his limbs. He couldn't die here. Not before seeing Ichigo... not yet..! A voice sounded from a little further off, quiet but commanding. "Don't. Boss wants him alive." There was a grunt from above him as the barrel receded. He tried to see his attacker's face, but the kick to his stomach pulled all thought away from gathering details. He scrunched up slightly, gripping his stomach protectively. He heard the grass crunch closer to him and felt a sharp pain to the back of his head before he receded into the darkness.

But even as the darkness consumed his consciousness, Grimmjow did not regret coming for Ichigo.

Not one fucking bit.

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	12. Murderer

Started on June 24th.

Completed on July 3rd.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s):** I do not own Bleach. If I did, Ururu would totally show up more often. She is awesome and scary at the same time.

**Warning:**

Violence

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 11**

**"Murderer"**

**

* * *

  
**

The first thing that he noticed upon waking was the taste of metal. He struggled to identify the source of the taste, his mind still foggy. Grimmjow knew that he would be blind-sighted if he would open his eyes, seeing the faint light from underneath his eyelids. He kept his eyes firmly shut. He slowly came into awareness, his senses coming back one by one as the minutes ticked by. Finally, his brain clicked into gear, allowing him to deduce the taste in his mouth.

Blood.

His nerves kicked into action, alerting him of a massive pain on the back of his head, causing a pulsing headache to stir. He was unable to hold back the groan, the sound of it seeming to echo around him. The blue haired man vaguely heard shuffling nearby before a loud chuckle sounded beside him. "I think he's awake," the deep voice beside him said.

There was no reply. The only sound after that was a clacking of shoes approaching him and a slight sloshing of liquid. He had no time to think before ice cold water rained over his head and ran down his back, quickly soaking into the fabric of his shirt. The moment the water had made contact with his skin, he had frozen up, his muscles constricting as he clenched his jaw against the cold.

A booming chuckle was heard as he pried his eyes open. Blinking the water from his sight, he turned to look at the source of the sound only to have his stomach drop unpleasantly.

The chuckle had emanated from the man standing beside him, a tall, buff black man clothed in full white. While that itself was quite disconcerting, the fact that he _knew_ the man was what made his nerves shrink in horror. Yammy Rialgo, one of the department heads of Espada Enterprise. By the look on the man's face, he knew _exactly_ what was going on--and seemed to be an actively voluntary participant.

Yammy's mischievous smile widened into a pleased smirk. "Ah, so you really have joined the living once more, Blue." He let out another booming chuckle before glancing over to another figure standing before Grimmjow. The blue haired man let his eyes drift away from his tall coworker to find who had gained the man's attention. When his eyes landed on the older man before him, he felt his eyes widen, sheer surprise written on his features.

Another department head, Barragan Luisenbarn, an elderly, Mexican-seeming man, stood before him, a scrutinizing look painted on his face. Grimmjow slid his gaze over to the man standing beside him, finding another coworker watching him and adjusting the now-empty bucket he held--Starrk. He noticed one of the man's arms bandaged, likely broken. By now, he was no longer surprised, his features having settled into a guarded expression. It only took a second or two to click. These were the men who raided his home and kidnapped Ichigo. Instead of the wonderment and utter confusion that had been grasping his senses, he now felt unprecedented anger clutching at him, urging him to lurch forward and take these men _down_.

When his body halfway reacted on that passing urge, he was held back, finally realizing that he was restrained. He ignored Yammy's repetitive chuckles, instead analyzing the situation. His hands were cuffed behind his back, around a... support beam? He didn't seem to be severely injured, save for his head... He leaned his head to the side, swiping his face on his shoulder to get some of the running blood and water out of his eyes.

Grimmjow was brought out of his thoughts when Yammy spoke once more. "But damn," he said. "I knew you were hot-headed, but I thought even _you_ were smarter than _this_." He knew what the dark-skinned man was talking about instantly. Not many people would rush into a base full of who-knows-how-many dangerous subordinates only to bring back someone who had been lost. Grimmjow let out a quiet chuckle, unheard by his captors. It seemed like he was an exception.

Starrk swished his brown hair back over his shoulder, dropping the bucket to the ground with a dull thud. "Well, I don't have any orders past this. I'm outta here.." He trailed off with a yawn, reaching up his good arm to half-assed cover his mouth. Yammy merely let out an undignified snort. "Going to go find that pretty little thang o' yours?" He asked, referring to the ridiculously small, green haired teen that seemed to follow the brown haired man everywhere. Starrk stayed silent before turning and walking to the entrance of the warehouse. "I'll tell Lilynette that you guys said 'hi'." With that last statement, he disappeared out the door.

With a click from the door shutting, the warehouse descended into silence. Yammy let out a disappointed sigh before rubbing at his neck irritably. "I can't believe we're still stuck on duty. I mean, seriously. I should probably just ditch..." He chanced a glance at the older man standing before Grimmjow. When he saw that Barragan had a strict expression on his face along with crossed arms, however, he frowned. "Yeah, yeah. Boss would kill us. S'pose we should just go keep watch outside." He made his way to the heavy door, disappearing in the same fashion that Starrk did only moments before. Barragan, however, lingered.

The older man kept a carefully trained eye on Grimmjow, watching him silently. The blue haired man was a bit unnerved, but determined to not relent. He stared the man right back in the eye, keeping the urge to look away at bay. When he seemed to come to a private conclusion, Barragan looked away and made his way to the door. While he felt compelled to watch the man, slightly paranoid about the man turning around and whipping out a gun, he found himself preoccupied.

At the exact moment that Barragan stepped out from in front of him, he had spied something that he had been desperately hoping to see for a while now. Directly across from him, a head full of orange hair lay limp to the side, the body of the person tied to a support beam in a similar fashion to himself. All of a sudden, Grimmjow's thoughts were wiped clean and replaced with a tiny sprout of hope and relief.

_Ichigo_.

Having finally found who he had been looking for, he paid no heed to the loud screech of the door slamming shut, focusing all of his attention on the man mere feet away. His heart thumped loudly in his chest, fear twisting through his veins as different scenarios played themselves out in his head. He pushed his illogical reasoning back and tugged on the hand-cuffs again, becoming irritated with the chaffing device. He pulled harder, the chains of the cuffs clinging against the support beam. Finally coming to the conclusion that the cuffs weren't coming undone anytime soon, he resorted to the only other way to get to Ichigo--verbally.

"Ichigo.... _Ichigo_." The only indication that the man was even alive was the quick inhale of breath and the twitching of his leg. Grimmjow called louder. "Ichigo..!" It was a sort of hiss--loud, but not loud enough to reach the others outside--not that he really needed to be quiet. The orange haired man inhaled once more, groaning before allowing his head to loll to the opposite side and then rolling his neck slowly. He finally peeled his eyes open, his eyesight blurry and skewed. Blinking a couple of times, Ichigo brought his surroundings into a better focus before realizing exactly who was sitting a few yards in front of him.

"Grimmjow," he croaked out, his voice rough. "What the hell..." He trailed off, going into a painful sounding coughing fit. When he finally finished, he opened his eyes once more, trying to keep his eyes on the blue haired man. "Why... are you here..?" His voice faded on the last word, making him clear his throat. His eyes showed concern when he noticed that he had blood running down the side of his face. Grimmjow just shook his head, his features relaxing ever so slightly. "Never mind that," he replied. "How are you? Are you in pain? Did they... do anything to you..?" He looked unsure when he asked the last question, his fear revealing itself through the wavering words.

He only stared at Grimmjow, the questions not making sense. It took a few moments before the meaning behind them clicked. His eyes widened as he mechanically shook his head. "_No_." The word was scratchy, but most definitely stressed. "They didn't... _do_ anything." He took a second to swallow, trying to keep his throat moist. "How I feel... " He slowly shifted one of his legs, watching the limbs in concentration. Ichigo glanced back up and shook his head. "Fine... Think they gave me... numbing drug." He struggled with his words, trying to make his sentences shorter as each word seemed to hurt his throat.

A relieved sigh escaped Grimmjow, an immeasurable amount of weight having lifted from his shoulders. At least he knew that nothing... _terrible_ had happened to him. From what it seemed the only thing that they had really done was strap him to a support beam. It was also likely that he wasn't given food or water, if the man's voice was any indication. He couldn't see any new wounds and Ichigo didn't seem to have been violated... He cut his thoughts off.

_It didn't happen. End of the fucking story._

Ichigo tried to clear his throat, only causing himself to cough once more. Grimmjow watched him in despair, wanting nothing more than to have a glass of water materialize out of thin air. After the coughing fit, brown eyes vaguely focused on him once more. Ichigo narrowed his eyes slightly, making the man opposite of him furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

"Why are you... here?" He parroted his earlier question, watching Grimmjow's every move. The blue haired man knew that he was in a bit of trouble. In more than one way.

He shifted his body slightly, glaring off to the side. "I..." Blowing out an exaggerated sigh, he continued, "I didn't want you to go through any of this alone." Grimmjow continued to stare off to the side, refusing to see the orange haired man's reaction. Ichigo stared at him, blinking in confusion. His mouth fell open before snapping shut, the process repeating a few times. Finally, he settled on letting out a distraught noise. "You... stupid.." He slumped, letting his head hang close to his chest.

"Sounds 'lmost like you lo--" He was interrupted by the large warehouse door slamming open. Both of them turned to look at the door, straining their eyes to see their visitor. It was hard to see the man before he stepped into the artificial light from the dark exterior, but once he did, Grimmjow let out a growl of displeasure. The new visitor merely ran a hand through his slicked-back hair with a condescending smirk.

"What's wrong, Mr. Jaegerjaquez? Surprised?" He asked, amusement dripping from his every word. Grimmjow struggled against his hand-cuffs, growling lowly under his breath. Ichigo turned curious eyes on Grimmjow before straining to see the new arrival. His vision was still a bit blurred, and the man was more than a couple yards away... But for some reason, the voice seemed a tad familiar--just enough to invoke a small wave of not-very-pleasurable nostalgia. The blue haired man cursed, relenting in his struggles as the cuffs put new cuts into his wrists. He settled for glaring at the man before sneering.

"I kind of want to say yes, but at the same time, I can't be surprised that it ended up being you, _Aizen_." He spat the sentence out, his lips thinned out into a scowl. The man, Aizen, gave a smile. "Oh really? I suppose I can't be surprised about you being here, then, can I?" He walked closer, ignoring the orange haired man opposite of Grimmjow. "After all, we both know each other rather well, don't we? You are one of my employees, after all." The smile never faltered as Grimmjow let out another threatening growl.

Opening his mouth deliberately sluggish fashion, Grimmjow slowly pronounced his next words full of venom and eerily clear. "Go die in hell, you _fucking_ son-of-a-bitch." Even then, the smile of his employer never faltered. "So you still resort to such colorful words? Sometimes I wonder why I ever hired you." He turned away, glancing past Grimmjow at something nobody else could see. "Of course, I did have my reasons."

Grimmjow only watched him in silence, biting back the curiosity that bubbled within him. He wasn't going to show interest. It was exactly what the man wanted. Without prompting, Aizen blinked out of his own world and turned toward the door, calling out loudly. "Nnoitra! Bring them!" After a few moments of silence, the door was thrown open once more and a man of long black hair stomped across the room. He shoved a box into Aizen's arms and turned around, aiming to leave, but paused in his steps. Nnoitra glanced at Grimmjow and let a large smirk cross his face. "So I see you made a stupid move, just like the weakling you are." He was pissed off. He knew this guy had been untrustworthy from the beginning and wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of him, but Grimmjow merely glared at the man, knowing it was unwise to provoke him under such circumstances. The black haired man lingered, waiting for a reason to pull out a knife and kill the restrained man.

Having retrieved what he had asked for, Aizen allowed his smile to slip off of his face and sent a commanding glare in the black haried man's direction. "Nnoitra." His name was said with malice. Nnoitra aimed a careful glance behind him to his employer, and turned his head sharply, letting out a fierce, "tch." He stomped away quickly, slamming the door shut behind him.

Aizen allowed the box to drop to the floor, turning his attention back to the captives. Ichigo had shut his eyes by then, his swimming vision making him a bit sick to his stomach. Aizen began to speak. "You see. Many things have happened for the past years. More than a decade, I believe. I'm sure you've already figured some of this out, Grimmjow. The only way you can be here is of two ways. One, you went to the police, or two, you went to a different source." His gaze lingered on Ichigo's form before it returned to Grimmjow. "And considering I don't hear any sirens..."

"Why don't you go ahead and tell me all that you know about the situation." By now, the smile had already slipped onto his face once more. Grimmjow stayed silent for a moment before deciding to amuse his captor. "I know that many people in our company are working for an organization-type society, which is likely 'under-the-radar'. I also know that this is also somehow involved with Ichigo's past and most likely his mother, too."

The smile seemed to slip slightly before growing ever larger. "You know the basics... but not quite enough to get the picture." He walked a few feet off to grab a chair, dragging it closer to the captives. The screech of the chair made Grimmjow and Ichigo flinch, turning their heads away from the awful noise. When he found a suitable spot, Aizen stopped and sat down once more. He threaded his fingers together and leaned back in his seat, watching the two with a mocking smile. "I suppose it's time to tell you a story.

"There was an organization that specialized in shady dealings. It started out small, but it grew into a small company. After that, it grew even further, bigger and bigger. But, since what the organization had originally began to do was something really bad, it had to be kept secret from many people. So as the company grew, many people who didn't know the secrets of the real work were integrated to help keep them under the radar. They had grown so far that they had made themselves one of the top Underground manufacturers--nicknamed 'Black-Jack of all Trades'. They did everything from smuggling drugs to developing and selling weapons and even assassinations. Almost all illegal businesses ran through this one particular organization-turned-company.

"While they had maintained the dark secrets for a long time, they had made a small mistake and left clues of their existence. Of course, the members who made the mistake were instantly killed for it." Aizen's smile had grown a touch maniacal at this 'confession'. He continued, "One particular couple had found these clues and decided to pursue them. They were a rather famous couple, with three children. The husband was a well-known cop, having been in the force for many years. The wife, on the other hand, was a famous detective, a newly found rookie who had been making a ruckus the past couple years. It was originally the wife who found the clues on the organization, but she had leaked a bit of information to her husband to get the cops on the trail. But even then, the husband hadn't gathered nearly as much information as his wife."

Aizen shifted in his chair, his candy-sweet smile making Grimmjow feel sick to his stomach. The blue haired man glanced across from him, seeing Ichigo pale and shaking slightly. Something about his reaction... He had no time to ponder anything as their captor continued with the disturbing story.

"When the organization found out about this, a hit was immediately placed atop the wife's head. Sadly enough, the couple seemed to be a couple of steps ahead of the organization and had gone into hiding, removing all traces of their whereabouts. All of their federal information was out of date, and although they continued to work, they used special means to avoid the organization. But there had been reports of one of their children being seen in a certain area of Karakura."

Aizen's smile grew in size when Grimmjow's eyes widened. Grimmjow knew exactly where this was going... and he didn't like it one bit. He turned his sight back onto Ichigo, seeing how pale the man was. But he had stopped shaking. He was now perfectly still, leaning up against the support beam with his eyes firmly shut, seeming to hold his breath for the next part of the horrifying tale. Aizen decided to continue, enjoying how he knew exactly how the wheels in Grimmjow's head were turning and matching up.

"The leader of the organization had been tired of the detective slipping from his grasp more than once, and decided to take matters into his own hands. So he started to sit in the park that the detective's son would pass by each day on his way home. One day, the boy finally realized that he saw the same man there every day and asked if he had a home to go to. When the man vaguely replied that he did, the boy had smiled and left. The next day, the same man was there once again. The boy asked why the man wasn't at home, and the man had replied that he liked the park better. The boy had frowned and went home. The next day, the boy had seen him again but ignored him, trying to pass him by. But the man decided to make his move on that day. He asked the boy if he could walk him home. The boy stayed quiet, but nodded, neither smiling nor frowning. As they walked, the boy had revealed that his father and sisters were going to visit a close friend that night. So the man had dropped him off at his home and left, a plan formulating in his mind." Aizen tapped his temple with a small smirk, watching Grimmjow with the utmost interest.

"So later that night, the order was issued to massacre everyone within that house. More than three assassins showed up at the premises that night, all of them being rather sadistic. As the main orders were to kill, they thought there to be no harm in a bit of torture. So they forced the young boy to watch as the life slowly drained from his mother. They continued to inflict harm on the woman's body, even after she had already died." Aizen shrugged as if he weren't telling such a horrific story. "Of course, as they continued to mutilate the body of the detective, they never noticed that the boy had slipped out of his restraints and snatched one of the knives that had caused his mother's death, running off to his father. The father had panicked and had gone into extensive hiding with his family for a few years, practically disappearing off the face of the Earth. They finally returned to the real world, but again kept their personal and familial information in the hands of only those they trusted the most. The boy grew up, refusing to be put in the witness protection program and continued with his daily life.

"Only a couple of years following that, however, the organization found his whereabouts. The boy-turned-man made a desperate run, but, lo-and-behold, he ended up being killed by an 18-wheeler truck... or so the organization thought. Of course, many members were confused when a little less than half a year later, that same man who was thought to be dead ended up walking right through the doors of the company who put him through such strife."

Grimmjow was shaking in anger, his thoughts racing through his head. This man, the way he spoke was as if... "You're the leader, aren't you?" He had already suspected it the moment that he heard Espada Enterprise was behind the whole kidnapping, but... he still needed confirmation. Aizen's smile grew as he regarded the blue haired man. "Why, yes. You always were quite the smart one, weren't you?" The question was laced with a type of sarcasm, amusement dancing in his eyes. Grimmjow gritted his teeth, watching as Aizen stood up and made his way over to Ichigo, crouching down. He grabbed the frozen man's chin and pulled him up to where their gazes connected. Ichigo's brown eyes dilated in fear as Aizen said, "Hello, Ichigo. It's been a long time." The sickly-sweet smile stayed in place as Grimmjow began to curse behind him. "Of course, you still remember me, don't you? I'm the man who had a home that he didn't want to return to. And..." His eyes narrowed, his smile growing ever larger. "The man who took away your home and forced you to _say goodbye to your mother_."

Something stirred in Ichigo, the words and voice provoking an unwanted memory, forcing his eyes to slip shut.

Knives hacking at his mother's limbs, watching and listening as she cried out. One of the men steps back and allows a smile to bloom on his face and approaches the child. Holding out a walkie-talkie, everything seems to be quiet as he murmurs, "Boss has some words for the kid." After a few moments of silence, static emits from the walkie-talkie, and then...

"_Say goodbye to your mother_."

Ichigo gasped as he connected the memory to the man before him, finally recognizing him as the man who he had talked to those few days. His eyes snapped open, a full-scale glare heatedly staring Aizen down. The murderer chuckled before saying, "Yes. I am the one who orchestrated your mother's death. That look in your eye... it's perfect." Another chuckle was released before he stepped back. He watched Ichigo for a few moments before a downright chilling smile crossed his face. "I think we should play a game." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, watching Ichigo the whole time. "You see, I rather like games." He walked around Ichigo and pressed the key into the man's hand-cuffed palm before walking back around to where the orange haired man could see him. Ichigo's face had gone expressionless, no doubt confused on the new developments. Aizen continued, a bit disappointed with the lack of emotion. "The game starts when you are able to escape from your hand-cuffs." He always loved to watch human emotions. They were so fascinating, right up to the point before they died. He found that the most fascinating emotion was hope.

He always made it a point to show the captives that there was no hope of survival before producing a small sliver of hope for them. It was fascinating to watch their expressions change from hopeless to hopeful. Of course, he loved to watch as the hope was forcefully drained from them before they were finally dead and devoid of life. "But..." He reached into his other pocket and smiled a truly devious and terrifying smile, pulling out a knife and tossing it to the floor in front of Ichigo.

"That is, only if you can keep your thoughts off of what is in front of you."

Brown eyes dilated in fear as Ichigo slammed his head back into the support beam. Without regard for the pain, he clenched his eyes shut and began shaking his head back and forth, muttering underneath his breath. Aizen watched him in fascination, a truly delighted smile upon his face. Grimmjow gritted his teeth even further, shaking from everything he had just found out and that everything looked so bleak. Aizen didn't even see Ichigo as a threat. Even if he did manage to ignore the knife in front of him and got his hand-cuffs off, he was still subject to the numbing drug that he had been given earlier. If only he could find a way to get his hand-cuffs off...

Grimmjow growled under his breath, drawing Aizen's attention back to him. The brown haired man watched him for a moment before something seemed to click. "Oh. I had a question for you anyways, Mr. Jaegerjaquez." He made his way back to the abandoned box and reached in, pulling out a mask. "As I'm sure you already know, we had approached your sister on joining the organization, and she had rejected. This was supposed to be her mask." He held the mask up at a more viewable angle, showing the mask's details. Pronounced teeth and goat horns were the only detailed parts of the mask, leaving the rest a blank, simple white.

He pulled out 3 other masks, tossing them to the ground. One mask had two sides of a detailed jaw and extended a bit, another with a strange type of horn (maybe an antannae..?) and ridges on the side, the last seemed rather plain save for the rectangular rims around the eyes. "I was planning on inviting a few others into the group..." He turned to fix his own brown eyes onto Grimmjow's electric blue.

"Have you ever wondered why I hired you, Grimmjow? You never really had the best record--constant fights, always getting into trouble... _Why_ would I hire somebody who could ultimately cause my company trouble in the end?" His smile grew ever chillingly as Grimmjow seemed to understand. "That is, of course, unless that's exactly what I wanted you for. It may seem ridiculous as I probably already know the answer, but..." He reached into the box and pulled out another mask, this one having the details of only the right jaw. Aizen ran his fingers over the finely detailed teeth of the mask, watching Grimmjow intensely. "What do you say? Care to join us?"

Grimmjow felt his stomach turn over as disgust, hatred, and utter anger mixed themselves together. He fixed the company president with a glare and said, "I've said it once, I'll say it again. 'Go die in hell, you fucking son-of-a-bitch.'" Aizen shook his head and carelessly tossed the mask back in the box as the blue haired man continued, blinking as blood inched close to his eye once more. "If you already knew that I was going to reject the offer, why did you even bother?" The brown haired man gave a simple sigh and gathered up the other 3 masks, tossing them back in the box, too.

"I was hoping that you would accept because I thought you would think about the possible consequences." He folded the top of the box up, slyly smiling when Grimmjow perked up a bit at the mention of 'consequences'. He continued, "After all, what would happen to dear little Ichigo and your little sister?" There was a moment of silence before he said, "Really a shame." There was a clinking sound from Ichigo's direction, the brown haired man glancing over there momentarily before brushing the sound off as handcuffs against the support beam. He turned his attention back to Grimmjow as the man spoke. "Me and you both know that's bull-shit, Aizen." He settled his head back onto the support beam and gritted his teeth further, vaguely thinking about how uncomfortable it was to be in soggy clothes sitting in a puddle of water. "You would have killed them whether I accepted or not. Ichigo would be killed no matter what for being a direct witness. And Nel... even if there were some strange sort of chance that she would be left alive... the answer would still be 'no'." He clenched his eyes shut in pain, as if the indirect choice between his sister and Ichigo had hurt him physically.

Aizen smirked. "Yes, you're absolutely right. But you see, your positive answer would have at _least_ delayed the process. It's quite terrible that you didn't think that through." He sent a glance to Ichigo before turning his gaze back to Grimmjow, the blue haired man's face lighting up in realization.

He was going to have to watch Ichigo die. And then he would be killed.

Ichigo, however, was no longer listening to the conversation and had been participating in his own conversation. _Please. Just help!_

_**I'm sorry, King--but I can't do this all the time. It's time for you to face your fears.**_

Ichigo felt Hichi's presence shrink into the back of his mind until he was unable to sense it any longer. He remembered the last conversation that they had, recalling how he needed to have the conviction to reach for the future on his own. He sucked in a rattling breath and made his decision, his body shaking almost uncontrollably. The sound that Aizen had heard earlier was not the handcuffs against the support beam. It was actually his handcuffs slipping off of his wrists and hitting the floor. He pulled his hands around the support beam to rest them in front of him.

His eyes shifted to the glinting metal of the blade lying just out of reach as he stood up shakily. Grimmjow's gaze locked on him from around Aizen, eyes widening in horror. As if questioning the sudden change in expression, Aizen himself turned around to see what the problem was. As soon as the brown haired man's eyes were on him, Ichigo darted forward.

And he picked up the knife.

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	13. Officer

Started on July 7th.

Completed on July 10th.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s):** I do not own Bleach. If I did, Byakuya would have a more masculine Bankai. I mean, seriously. Sakura petals?

**Warning:**

Violence

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 12**

**"Officer"**

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He couldn't breathe. He felt like he was suffocating. Everything was so unclear... He just couldn't think straight. Ichigo's hands shook as he held the knife in an offensive position, blade pointed in the brown haired man's direction. He struggled to keep his mind off of the weapon that he clutched in his hand. There was no time to be afraid. He couldn't let his fear get the best of him. Not with his life on the line.

Not with Grimmjow's life on the line.

He swallowed back the bile that threatened to ascend from his empty stomach, clenching his eyes shut momentarily and trying to hear the noises around him from over his loudly thumping heartbeat. He could feel his adrenaline drop a bit. Things probably weren't going to turn out for the best. He had been drugged and denied any kind of nourishment for over 24 hours. Chances were he wouldn't even be able to put a scratch on Aizen.

Said man had quite the large smile spread across his face. It made Ichigo feel even more sick than he already felt. Swiping a hand through his brown hair, Aizen merely shook his head with a condescending shrug. "I must say... I am quite surprised, Kurosaki. I never expected you to make such progress." He glanced up, locking cold brown eyes onto hazy chocolate eyes. "You never cease to amuse me."

Grimmjow watched the exchange, a sinking feeling grasping at him. Was this fear? Was he truly terrified at the prospect of what was going to happen? He needed to get out of his handcuffs. He needed to get free _now_.

He hastily glanced around, trying to find any means of getting free. Even if it meant hacking his own arm off.. he paused, cutting off his thoughts that were spiraling out of control. Only five or so inches from his foot, there lay a key. The very same key that Ichigo had accidentally sent his way.

_The key to the handcuffs._

Scooting his body slightly, Grimmjow inched forward, stretching his legs out as much as possible to reach the small key. He grunted, leaning his body back against the support beam to allow himself to stretch even further.

Only a few meters away, Ichigo stood rooted to the spot, not moving an inch--a feat that he was partially amazed that he was able to perform. His vision was beginning to blur dangerously, causing him to sway precariously in place. He knew that he was in a majorly dangerous position. Not only was he at a major disadvantage with his condition, but the man before him was the _leader_ of a high-class _crime syndicate_. While the man himself probably didn't do the dirty work, it was highly doubtful that he was a push-over. More than likely, he would at least know some basic fighting--and by the looks of things, basic fighting would be the only thing needed to take him down in his current state.

Aizen relaxed slightly, letting out a dramatized sigh. "Look, Ichigo. You have made a brilliant, unexpected move. As a pawn, that is highly commended. But the fact that you haven't made a move since then is just... _boring_." He flashed a chilling smile, tilting his head to the side. "Don't you think it would be interesting if the white pawn would be able to force the black king into checkmate? Of course, the likelihood of that happening..." He glanced off to the side for a moment, his eyes clouding before returning to Ichigo. The moment their eyes reconnected, Ichigo made his decision. He wouldn't regret this. He was going to fight to the death. Aizen spoke once more. "Well, we both know the answer to _that_."

All it took was a mere second. In one second, Ichigo had hesitated, the angle of the blade descending a fraction. In the exact same second, his brown haired opponent had shot forward, slamming his fist into the younger man's gut, enjoying the look of wide eyed confusion that bloomed on his face before he was propelled backwards. He crashed into a pair of large crates, releasing a choked breath of air. Grimmjow's yell of 'Ichigo!' had gone unheard.

An unsteady trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. He disregarded the crimson liquid, his limbs feeling too heavy to reach up and wipe it away. Chocolate brown eyes were pried open slowly, forcefully blinking the heavy haze from themselves. He couldn't be beat down. Not this fast. Not when more than one life was on the line. Ichigo ignored the thumping pain his muscles exuded, slowly propping himself up and forcing himself to his feet, vaguely surprised that he hadn't dropped the knife. He had been through this much pain before. Such a thing wasn't going to keep him down.

Clacking footsteps drew near him, Aizen's voice echoing around the warehouse as he came closer and closer. "Really, Ichigo. Even though you know it's hopeless, you still strive to continue. Even in such pain? Can you really endure such pain? Can you really survive?" He released a chuckle when he stepped into the younger man's view, watching as kind brown eyes hardened into something much more harsh. "Of course, it's rather entertaining for me..." His pace quickened ever so slightly, barely noticeable to the human eye.

But Ichigo caught it.

The very second that Aizen had shot forward once more, Ichigo had dodged to the side and whirled around, meaning to slash into his attacker as he spun around and started after him, pulling back a forceful fist. When Aizen had caught the glint of the knife, however, he brought his fist in front of him, slamming his hand into Ichigo's to offset the path of the blade and get him to release it. Ichigo maintained his hold of the blade and dodged away, gaining a few yards distance between him and the murderer.

His adrenaline was beginning to die down. He was starting to remember his condition once more. His legs were going to give out any second now. If he had any chance at all of making it out of this fight alive, he had to make a move _now_. At that thought, Ichigo became a touch impatient, making a fatal mistake.

He threw the knife.

The knife whirred by Aizen harmlessly as the man tilted his head slightly to the side, a clinking noise breaking the silence as the blade hit the ground a ways back behind him. A wicked smile spread across the mans sly lips. "I see. So you have given up hope, have you? It seems it's time for us to end this dance." Aizen rushed forward with all intent of ending everything. Ichigo had a different thought in mind. He ducked down, using the last of his strength to throw himself in the direction of the knife. He flipped over to find his attacker standing above him, pulling back a leg to stomp on him.

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Grimmjow couldn't see what was going on in the fight, the two having moved in the direction behind him. He hastily felt around for the slender metal, having finally pushed it around the support beam, close enough for his hands to grab hold of it. When his fingers brushed against the cool metal, he wanted to shout in victory. He fumbled with the key, twisting his hands at an awkward angle to insert it and finally click the cuffs undone. He slid his wrists out of the metal rings, unconsciously rubbing at his chaffed skin. Grimmjow forced himself to stand up, whirling around with widened eyes to see Aizen standing over Ichigo with his foot raised to stomp down on the younger man's stomach. His legs immediately set into action, darting forward. He wouldn't make it in time..!

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Blindly reaching out beside him, Ichigo finally grabbed hold what he had been searching for. Grasping the handle of the knife, he rammed the blade into the bottom of the man's foot as it had been descending. The metal tore through the leather sole of the shoe, fully embedding itself through the flesh of Aizen's foot. A low yell tore from his mouth as he stumbled backwards, reaching down to yank the knife out from the bottom of his foot.

No longer was a smile on Aizen's face as he slowly allowed his hurt foot to touch the ground, now holding the knife in a menacing position to use it on the younger man before him. Raising the hand holding the blade slightly, he fixed his crazed brown eyes onto Ichigo's own fearful ones and said, "Playtime is over." Ichigo painfully bit his lip, slamming his eyes shut as he resigned himself to his fate.

_It's over._

He heard a loud grunt and clang of metal a few feet away, prying his eyes open to see a blur of blue smash the murderer into the ground. Before Aizen could get back up to his feet, Grimmjow slammed his fist into the man's back, causing the his head to hit the marble floor with a sickening crack. Ichigo didn't even try to look over to where his attacker lay, instead focusing his eyes his companion standing above him. Grimmjow looked down at him in worry for a moment, confused when the orange haired man covered his eyes with an arm. "Shit. Think half m' life was shaved off 'cause o' that.."

Grimmjow dropped to his knees with an uneasy chuckle, gathering the still man into his arms. "I don't believe in God, but Jesus fucking Christ." He pulled Ichigo tight against himself, unwilling to let the younger man go. "Shit. You and me both, god-damnit," he muttered, referring to Ichigo's prior statement. A muffled chuckle was let out against the wet fabric of Grimmjow's shirt. Ichigo lay still in his arms, causing him to worry. He shook him slightly, calling his name. "Ichigo.. hey, Ichigo..!" The younger shook his head ever so slowly, his eyelids sliding shut.

"...'m tired..."

Electric blue eyes narrowed playfully. "Dumb-ass. I'm tired, too." He stood up, hoisting Ichigo up along with him. He pulled one of Ichigo's arms around his neck to ease the support. "Though I s'pose you could rest before I do." Ichigo gave a noncommital groan, already falling into the black abyss of slumber. Grimmjow shook him slightly. "Hey, now. No sleeping yet. I said rest. There's a big fucking difference between sleep and rest. For all I know, you could have a damned concussion. Again." Ichigo's groan of dismay was his only response.

With a tired chuckle, he began his trek to the doorway, stepping around Aizen's unconscious body. When he had made it within a few feet of the door, however, reality reared its ugly head. Just because he had taken care of the person _within_ the building didn't mean that the people _outside_ the building were out of the way.

Before he had time to contemplate the dilemma, the door to the warehouse slammed open. Grimmjow and the limp Ichigo were instantly met with the barrels of two guns. Grimmjow sucked in a panicked breath while Ichigo tensed in his hold before a single word was shouted.

"Halt!!"

He couldn't help but think that the word sounded out of place. What kind of assassin would yell 'halt' instead of taking the chance to shoot before asking questions? Grimmjow released his pent up breath, looking past the gun barrels to the two people holding them.

The traditional black of a police uniform.

Relief encompassed his every nerve, his body relaxing as the panic slipped away. He jolted his head to the side, indicating the space behind himself. "The guy you're looking for is back there." A victorious smirk spread across his features as the pair lowered their guns. The violet haired woman turned her head back to the doorway and shouted outside. "We need medical assistance, now! They're both safe!" There was a clinging heard before someone called back.

"Confirmed, Captain Soifon! You heard the woman! Both of them are okay! Medical assistance!" More clinging was heard before a couple of frightened shouts sounded. The pair standing before them didn't seem concerned about the worrying noises outside, though. Soifon glanced at Grimmjow and Ichigo (who had pried his eyes open at the familiar voice) and tilted her head in the direction of the light outside. "You should be able to get medical help out there. Watch out for flying projectiles though. Kenpachi's having fun. You know how he gets." She aimed the last sentence at Ichigo, ignoring how he seemed to be confused with her presence. She turned to her partner only to see him stalking away, deeper into the warehouse. "Hey! Wait...! Ugh... Damned Byakuya..." Soifon started after him, leaving Grimmjow to stare in a confused silence. Glancing at his companion, he found that Ichigo was just as boggled as he was. Shaking his head in resignation, he hefted the younger man up a bit before stepping out of the warehouse.

Ichigo closed his eyes as they stepped into the daylight of the sunrise. Grimmjow furrowed his eyebrows. Did it seriously take nearly ten hours to perform a rescue operation? Urahara was supposed to commence the operation around 9 pm... and it was already daybreak. Almost the whole area was swarmed with cops, some medical assistants running around like mad to try and find any injured. How long had all of these people been outside? Surely they would have heard so many people... He was jarred out of his thoughts when there was a dull thud against the wall of the warehouse some feet away. Curiously turning to the sound, he spotted a man slump to the ground.

Nnoitra.

Although curious, someone stepped in Grimmjow's way, blocking his view of the scene unfolding mere feet away. A young silver haired woman began to fuss over Ichigo, calling a few men over to take him to the ambulance. A stretcher was brought over, the assistants easily stepping around the unconscious assassin. They hastily secured Ichigo to the stretcher and wheeled it over to the nearby ambulance, sitting along beside a half-dozen police cars. Grimmjow followed the stretcher over to the ambulance, pausing as he saw a pink haired girl run toward them. The girl stopped in front of him and bounced around, trying to see past him.

"Is Ichi okay? Is he okay? Please tell me he's okay! He's Ken-chan's play-mate!" She looked up at him expectantly, making Grimmjow stare at her in confusion. He cleared his throat slightly before nodding slowly. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure he's okay. He's a tough fucker." The girl didn't seem fazed with the curse word tacked on at the end, offering a bright smile. "Of course he's tough! He's tough enough to handle Ken-chan!" She pointed at a tall, burly man, standing over Nnoitra--presumably Ken-chan. Said person leaned over to examine the unconscious assassin for a moment before standing straight and aiming a (not very light) kick at the guy's side. Some of the cops standing by winced, a major difference from the bright smile that the young girl offered.

The same silver haired woman who had wheeled Ichigo away came back and began to fuss over him, repeatedly tugging on his wet sleeves as he smacked her hands away. After multiple repetitions of this, he finally gave in, allowing himself to be pulled over to the ambulance. Ichigo was in the back of the ambulance, the doors wide open. He was already halfway bandaged, sitting up against a couple of pillows and gulping down warm soup broth. His eyes landed on Grimmjow, lowering his cup and giving a tired, yet dazzling smile. The assistant had already begun tugging off Grimmjow's wet clothes (much to his dismay) and began inspecting bruises and such that were left over from the fight a few nights prior. Another woman began to fuss over his head, cleaning off the blood and wrapping him (a little too generously) in bandages. Ichigo allowed himself a small chuckle at the scowl that the blue haired man was shooting the two women.

Grimmjow had been about to retort, opening his mouth only to shut it a moment later when the pink haired ball of sunshine bounced her way over. "Ichi!!" She yelled. "You're safe!" Ichigo blinked for a moment at the girl, and then his mouth dropped open in confusion when 'Ken-chan' stepped up behind the girl. "Kenpachi..? Yachiru..?" His voice was hoarse, but not nearly as bad as what it was. The warm broth must have helped.

The cops bustling back and forth went ignored, Ichigo instead focusing on the two arrivals. "Yep!" Yachiru nodded excitedly. "You didn't get hit in the brain! No amnesia!" Ichigo was about to respond but was interrupted when a familiar green and white striped hat moved into view. Urahara snapped open his fan with a devious smile before he chuckled, coyly hiding behind the paneled fan. "Ohohoho... no need to start in on Kurosaki so fast. Let him get some rest before you all jump on him at once!" Yachiru pouted, tugging on Kenpachi's sleeve, dragging him away after he had declared that 'it isn't over yet! You still owe me a fight!'. Grimmjow watched after them before turning to Urahara with an irritated expression on his face.

"The plan starts when night falls, huh?" His eyes were narrowed, watching the blond's reaction as closely as possible. Urahara merely gave a boisterous chuckle, waving his fan excitedly. "Ah... plans were a bit more delayed than we thought." He gave a cheeky smile, pausing when Grimmjow opened his mouth to retort. He quickly held up a hand and said, "And before you start asking about the police... when I said I didn't want police to be helping out here, I meant _uninvolved_ cops. It's faster to contact them through my means." Grimmjow promptly shut his mouth, scowling at the amusement twinkling in Urahara's to the tired and injured orange haired man, the blond spoke with utmost ease. "Hello, Kurosaki! How are you feeling this bright, cheery morning?" Ichigo merely scowled in response, choosing to ignore the question.

"Care to 'xplain things?" His voice was as harsh as a hoarse voice could be. He was truly curious as to why clothing designers from Soul Society were helping in a police operation. Urahara felt no threat behind it, maintaining his smile. "Yes, you see, your father has quite good relations with many of the people of that company. A good dozen or so of the employees were actually undercover officers with orders to watch over you... and more than half of what was left over were miraculous fighters. So it all fit perfectly! It was a great way to keep you safe!" Ichigo's scowl grew more profound as Urahara clapped happily. Well, at least he knew the reason why he felt Kenpachi didn't really belong. I mean, seriously.

Who the hell could see that man drawing up clothing designs?

There was a bit of commotion a ways away as a man dodged through the many cops swarming the area. He pulled to a stop in front of the ambulance, eyes gleefully landing on Ichigo sitting in the back of the car. He gave a loud (highly unmasculine) squeal and launched forward... only to be blocked by Grimmjow. The older, tanned man hit the ground with a grunt, pausing a moment before standing up and dusting himself back off. "Ichigo! My beloved son!" He threw his arms open passionately. "You're okay!"

Grimmjow restrained the violent urge to punch the man in the gut. It was Ichigo's father, after all. Ichigo just rolled his eyes and smiled slightly. "Goat-face. Good t' see ya too." He coughed slightly, leaning forward in pain. Grimmjow immediately perked up, eyes watching him with worry. A woman came around from the front of the ambulance, her hair in a strange braid underneath her chin. "Alright, now. We have to take the injured to the hospital. They need their rest." Urahara grinned at the woman and pulled Isshin back away from the doors as Grimmjow climbed into the ambulance and took a seat next to Ichigo. "No problem, Captain Unohana." Urahara winked, chuckling. "Just have to restrain the dog from his pup."

Unohana gave a soft laugh, grabbing the handles to the ambulance back doors. As the doors began sliding shut, Isshin fixed a serious smile on his son. "Did you settle things?" Ichigo looked over to Grimmjow before glancing back at his father. A small smile crossed his face as he nodded.

"Yeah. It's settled."

The ambulance doors were securely shut and the injured were driven to the hospital, leaving the cops to deal with the rest of the problems at the warehouse premises.

**

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**

Handing Ichigo a steaming-hot styrofoam cup of coffee, Grimmjow stepped back and settled into the squeaky bedside chair. Hospital chairs were so uncomfortable. He watched as Ichigo stared into his cup, swirling the dark brown liquid in circles for a moment before taking a cautious sip. Almost instantly, it was pulled away from his mouth, a look of disgust painted on his face. Grimmjow chuckled, glancing down at his own cup of coffee before placing it on the nearby table in favor of saving himself from the taste-bud-mauling drink. Placing his own coffee on the same table, Ichigo glanced around the bland room idly.

Grimmjow yawned lowly, remembering something. "Oh yeah. Seems like all of the assassins were caught. They weeded the fuckers out of the company and arrested them. They're supposed to go on trial in a month or so. Every one of the bastards went down with a fight." He paused, expression turning thoughtful. "Except Starrk. I heard he just put his arms up and surrendered. While yawning." He furrowed his eyebrows, lips turned down in disgust. "I always knew he was strange..." Blue locks of hair were ruffled out of place as he shook his head. "Though, I must say--Gin tops him in the weird department _quite_ spectacularly. It's fitting that he's an assassin... Now that most of the top management of the company is gone, all of us are going to get promotions. Ulquiorra is going to be the president of Espada Enterprise now."

He snorted at the thought, smirking slightly as a devious smile bloomed on Ichigo's face and said, "As if he would even want to. He'd probably hand most of the work off to a secretary." Grimmjow chuckled softly, turning his eyes back onto Ichigo, proceeding carefully. "I also heard Aizen has been apprehended... they expect him to get the life sentence... for his highly elaborate plans of 'manslaughter'." He did the air quotation marks around the word, rolling his eyes at the technical term. Then he said, "They're planning on bringing up your mother's case against him." Ichigo shut his eyes, pain blooming slightly on his features. After a few moments, he gave a nod, opening his eyes once more. That subject was over and done with. No more. The room descended into silence.

Brown eyes returned to glancing around the room, vaguely noting how it was set up. Now that he and Grimmjow were alone, he didn't really know what to do--let alone say. The last time they were alone together was on his birthday in that cafe. Actually, if you wanted to get technical, it was that small span of time after he woke up and before Aizen showed up in the warehouse. Not exactly the ideal situation to be in.

Reminding him of that situation, he turned to his blue haired companion with a scowl. Grimmjow raised a curious eyebrow, wondering exactly what was eating at Ichigo all of a sudden. He continued to glare at him before saying, "Why the hell did you come after me?"

The question hit him like a ton of bricks. He had totally forgotten about this. He knew this conversation was bound to happen... he just conveniently forgot. He averted his eyes, glancing at the random knick-knacks sitting around and fervently ignoring the glare burning into the back of his head. Finally, he heaved a sigh, ruffling his hair before folding his hands together.

"I wanted to go in after you," Grimmjow said with utmost seriousness. Ichigo twitched. What the hell kind of answer was that?! He was about to start a fierce yelling match, but stopped as he saw hesitation in electric blue eyes. He leaned back a bit, waiting for Grimmjow to start up again. "I..." Grimmjow growled at his hesitation. Why was he being such a fuck-tarded girl about this? "I couldn't just leave you alone." Ichigo was instantly reminded of his previous interrupted statement.

_It sounds almost like you love me._

Deciding it was unlikely, he shook his head slightly. "Jeez! Stupid dumb-ass. Acting like you're in love! Stranded in the sea of love on a single flimsy ship." He joked. When Grimmjow looked at him in utter seriousness, however, he froze. Why was Grimmjow looking at him like that? As if what he just said... Blue eyes trained on brown, a simple question was asked.

"What if I am?"

Breath caught in his throat, Ichigo could only look at the blue haired man in awe. It was more than a little strange to hear such a confession from such a person's mouth! Even if it was indirect, it carried heavy implications that could point in no other direction. Grimmjow just (however indirectly) confessed his love to Ichigo. He retreated into his thoughts. How did he feel about Grimmjow's feelings? Not even needing a moment to contemplate the answer, he smiled to himself.

_It feels great._

He turned his brilliant smile onto Grimmjow, seeing the tension flee from the man's features. He leaned forward a bit, focusing his face into a dramatic thinking expression. "Hmm... Well.." He slipped into a smile. "I think you're going to need a partner on that flimsy ship. Just for support." Grimmjow smirked and leaned forward, white teeth showing as his eyes gleamed predatorily.

"I'm captain of the ship," Grimmjow saucily replied. Ichigo frowned, easily interpreting the underlying meaning.

_I'm on top._

He leaned forward, planting a chaste kiss on Grimmjow's lips. "We'll see." Grimmjow raised an eyebrow, schooling his face into a small frown. "Fine." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ichigo's, slipping his tongue in between soft lips when he let out a moan. He pressed closer, forgetting about where they were and mapping out the opposite's mouth, detecting the faint taste of coffee. He pulled away, a smirk on his face once more. "We'll see," he said parroting Ichigo's earlier statement.

_Not._

**-Chapter End-**

A/N: Review?


	14. Lover

A/N: The sexual content has been removed from this chapter--this chapter has been edited to fit the guidelines of fanfiction dot net. If you wish to read the full version, you must be 18 years or older. It can be found on LiveJournal under my username as Desperatembrace. If you have trouble finding it, the link is in my profile as my homepage.

Started July 11th.

Completed July 19th.

**Authoress:** Desperatembrace

**Disclaimer(s):** I do not own Bleach. If I did, we would have known Isshin's secret a long time ago. (The curiosity is freaking killing me!)

**Warning:**

Violence

Alternate Universe

Language

Sexual Content

Yaoi

**Chapter 13**

**"Lover"**

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**

Brown eyes glared at the clock on the wall, watching as the second hand slowly made a full revolution. He had counted that particular hands revolutions far too many times since he had sat down. It was mocking him. He just _knew_ it. He let out a harsh sigh, tapping his fingers impatiently on the wooden armrest of the lobby chair. What the hell was taking Grimmjow so long?

The ding of the nearby elevator caused him to chance a glance in that direction, a sigh of relief being exhaled when blue hair came into view.

_Finally!_

Ichigo stood up and watched as Grimmjow made a beeline his way, tugging on a coat and holding his work bag between his teeth. Orange eyebrows furrowed as he snatched the bag from the man's mouth, rolling his eyes and proceeding out the large automatic doors. Grimmjow followed along behind him, struggling with the buttons of his coat. "Not my fault I'm late, Ichi. You know how it is."

He stopped when the younger man paused, turning around to face him. Ichigo fixed him with a hard stare before raising an eyebrow and reaching out to help him with his buttons."Yeah, yeah. You poor, poor man. Just because you ended up becoming the company president doesn't mean you get to use it as your excuse. _You're_ the one who wanted me to come meet you!" The sentence was ended with him waving his arms, the bag in his hand flopping around dangerously. Grimmjow looked off to the side, muttering to himself. He was still upset about Ulquiorra pushing the president's position onto him. Just because he didn't want the position, didn't mean he had the right to push it on to the next person he saw! He had things to do, too! He was a busy person! Grimmjow's thought process halted when his companion put his hands on his hips, a questioning look taking over his features.

"So? Why did you want me to come meet you? What's the deal?" Ichigo pinned him with a heavy stare, truly curious as to why his boyfriend had so fervently demanded that he come to meet him after work. He led him to his car, sliding in after Ichigo had already buckled up in the passenger seat. Starting the car and exiting the parking lot, he turned a small smile on him before saying, "You'll see."

**

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**

The car was parked next to the curb of a small street. Grimmjow got out of the car and lead Ichigo down a simple sidewalk around a tall fenced-in area. He was rather curious about the whole ordeal, especially since _flowers_ were now involved. A few blocks back, Grimmjow had stopped and bought a few white roses from a street vendor, pushing them into his hands and telling him to hold on to them. As they were walking, the orange haired man had begun to realize exactly where they were, grabbing uneasily at his sleeve. He had never been here before, but considering the place, he should have been here many, many times. But he had never had the courage nor support to do so.

The pair entered the area, keeping to the gravel path that was surrounded by grass and trees. Grimmjow followed the instructions that Isshin had given him, making his way to a particular patch of grass. He paused, gently pushing Ichigo in front of him so that he could see it. Ichigo's eyes landed on a beautifully carved stone, on which loving words were inscribed.

_'Here lies Kurosaki Masaki, loving mother and wife._

_Kind and pure of heart, she will forever be missed._

_May she rest in peace.'_

He could feel the unshed tears gathering in his eyes, the want and need to bawl like a child grabbing and clutching at him. He missed her so much. Ichigo vaguely wondered how he lived without her. He had always been rather attached to his mother... He sniffed slightly, leaning back and letting a smile overcome his face when Grimmjow was right there behind him, holding him up. Still staring at the stone, he dropped to his knees, not caring about dirtying up his pants or how cold the ground was. Delicately, he lay the roses across the grave and muttered a quick, silent prayer. He allowed Grimmjow to pull him back up to his feet.

Wordlessly, he followed his boyfriend over to a nearby bench, not protesting when he was pushed onto the artistically-carved stone seat. Grimmjow sat beside him, waiting silently. A few minutes passed before Ichigo finally blinked out of his thoughts, burying his head in his hands and smiling. "Thank you. It really means a lot to me." Teal eyes concealed themselves beneath eyelids as Grimmjow shook his head with a smirk. It was a bit hard to hear, but... he had heard it.

"This..." Ichigo's voice was quiet as he continued. "This has always been too hard for me. I couldn't do it alone. Especially since all of _those_ events had happened on my birthday. After that event, I despised my birthday, just because it shared my mother's death date. I thought it was a bad day... unlucky..." He shook his head, probably unable to continue. Grimmjow hummed in thought, staring off across the grass. "Really? I don't think it is. You were born that day--brought into existence. Wouldn't most people think that's a good thing--the beginning of life? The good balances out the bad." Ichigo wanted to laugh. Grimmjow--being sentimental! It was utter insanity. He instead stayed quiet, a smile playing at his lips. _The gift of life, huh?_

The couple stayed silent, watching people pass by to make their way to their own loved one's graves. The cold was made apparent when the wind blew, sending a chill down Ichigo's spine. He shivered slightly, pulling his coat a little tighter around himself. He looked down at his pants, noticing some dirt stuck to his knees. After brushing the soil off and having nothing else to do, his light tan hands started playing with the decorative zippers on his thighs.

Grimmjow stared at Ichigo, his face contorted in confusion. The orange haired man looked up from what he was doing, catching the man's eye. He looked around for a second before focusing his gaze him. "What's wrong?"

Blue locks of hair went slighlty askew as he shook his head, rubbing his chin. "No.. it's just... you seem to look... different. I can't really place it." He glanced down at Ichigo's shoes, raking his eyes up as he examined every detail. Finally, his eyes rested on Ichigo's bright orange hair--for once, not concealed by a hat. He let out a sound of revelation, his eyes scrunching up as a rare smile tainted his lips. "You aren't wearing a hat."

Ichigo covered his hair in defense, shrinking away from his boyfriend slightly. Grimmjow caught him by the wrist and pulled his hands away. "No. It's fine." He reached forward, running his own hand through the soft hair, marveling at how the orange hair would always return to its previous position. It sort of made him wonder if it would stay the same if he gave the man a nuggie... Instead of acting on his small, random urge, he said, "Why do you wear hats all the time, anyways?"

The younger man gave an almost uncaring shrug as he looked off into the distance. He shifted in his position on the stone bench before saying, "It stands out too much. Sometimes people would pick fights with me just because I had orange hair. I prefer to blend in with the crowd." Grimmjow gave a small snort, causing Ichigo to look back at him in confusion.

He smacked Ichigo's arm playfully, shaking his head as if everything were perfectly crystal-clear now. "Haven't you learned in that class you've been going to lately? Isn't it the job of an artist to stand out?" Brown eyes blinked a few times before a large smile spread beneath them. It was true. He started taking a college art class around the start of winter to pursue his dreams. He was still doing fashion design on the side, of course. "Yeah. I guess it is." A blue eyebrow was raised, taunting him. "Damn right it is. No more wearing hats..." He trailed off slightly before a smirk pulled at his lips. Ichigo watched him for a moment, waiting for more. He chuckled quietly to himself before resting his chin in his palm, his elbow propped up on his knee. "Well, now it will be a _hell_ of a lot easier to find you in the crowd. All I have to do is keep a look out for a glaringly orange head." He snickered as Ichigo slapped him on the thigh, huffing before standing up. "Yeah, yeah. Now that you've had your laughs, let's go home. It's cold." He glanced around at the trees littering the cemetery, each of the branches bare.

Already, it was February once more. It had been nearly a year since he had met Grimmjow--the year-long anniversary being in only 36 hours. A little more than half a year had passed since the confrontation with his past. Time had passed so quickly...

He shook his head. Who really cared? All that mattered was he was here with Grimmjow. For now and always. Said man stood up, nodding. "Yeah. Let's go."

**

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**

Ichigo stepped into the apartment flat, Grimmjow stepping in behind him and shutting the door. "Jeez. It's _still_ cold. Why did I forget to leave the heat on..?" Ichigo kept his coat on, only toeing off his shoes and going further into their home to turn up the thermostat. He then collapsed onto the couch, curling up to retain body heat. When Grimmjow walked into the room, he only chuckled, raising an eyebrow at his lover.

"Are you a bear now? Going into hibernation?" He smirked when a brown eye peaked open, Ichigo huffing indignantly. "Is it so wrong that I'm cold?" he asked. Grimmjow just shrugged. "Whatever you say." He pulled off his coat and tossed it over the back of the chair, stretching a bit. Ichigo watched him from his position on the couch before he asked, "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

Grimmjow shrugged. "I don't really know. Something good for the cold weather. Soup. Or stew," he added as an afterthought.

He stood there for a moment, just going through his thoughts. Now that he thought about it, they needed to make a trip to the therapist sometime soon--to cancel Ichigo's sessions. They had been planning on putting Ichigo back through therapy ('they' meaning Rukia--he was merely coerced into the idea) to 'rid Ichigo of his problem'. That problem was Hichi. Strangely enough, though, Ichigo had claimed that he hadn't heard from Hichi since the day of the incident. There was a lot of random muttering about buildings crumbling to the ground and hardened resolve. As far as Grimmjow could guess, Hichi had only existed to protect Ichigo from his past--and seeing as how his past was over and done with... He shook his head, deciding to just forget about such things for the time being. He really needed a smoke right about now... He hadn't had one of those in days... He shivered, remembering just how cold it was when a chill went down his spine. He needed to warm up...

He was going to make his way to the bathroom for a nice hot shower until he was stopped by Ichigo's voice. "Say..."

Grimmjow turned around and glanced at his boyfriend. "What?" he asked, a little annoyed that the warming shower was being delayed. Ichigo had sat up by now, watching him with a bit of a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Tell me, how many times has your birthday been considered unlucky?"

The blue haired man stiffened in his place, wincing slightly. _Shit_. Did that mean he had caught on? Instead of giving anything away, he asked, "What makes you say that?" Ichigo scowled, standing up from the couch. "Don't play stupid, you damned jack-ass. Today is February the 13th--Nel told me it's your birthday. And you scolded me for not liking _my_ birthday." Grimmjow was fuming. His damned sister could never just keep her mouth shut. Not for Ichigo, at least.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Today is my birthday, yes. It's not important." Grimmjow _really_ wanted to take back his words when he saw Ichigo's scowl deepen. Brown eyes glanced discreetly at the bedroom door, an action that he caught. Ichigo just shrugged, making his way over to the door, shaking his head. "Alright, then. If it's not important, then I suppose you don't want your gift." He opened the bedroom door, Grimmjow following him in curiosity. "Gift?" He watched Ichigo make his way to the bedside table and stepped up behind him. "I'll still take the gift, you know." He smirked, the smirk falling slightly as Ichigo deviously glanced over his shoulder.

"So you still want the gift?" he asked, eyes lit up in amusement. The moment that Grimmjow nodded his head in confirmation was the exact same moment that he found himself falling onto the bed.

He blinked up at Ichigo in confusion. He hadn't been expecting such a turn of events. Of course, it's not like he was about to complain. He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Grimmjow, having finally regained his wits, raised an eyebrow and smirked. "So this is my gift? A nice ravishing man atop me?"

Brown eyes watched him with a nervous undertone before they hardened into determination. Ichigo rotated his shoulders slightly in a make-shift shrug and said, "Yeah, well, what's the point in purchasing a material item that could easily be bought? I figured something a little more hard-to-get would be a lot more..." He paused, searching for the right word before giving his own smirk. "Satisfying."

Strands of blue hair flared around him as he turned and glanced at the arms holding his lover up, on either side of his head. "Well..." His questioning eyebrow dropped, a playful, challenging expression taking over his features. "What are you waiting for?" He reached up and buried his fingers into Ichigo's hair, pulling the man down into a heated kiss. In all truth, he had been waiting for this. Ever since they had officially become lovers, the farthest that they had gone had been... not that far. After all, the _lowest_ that either had gotten to had been the neck.

And he found that pretty damned sad.

Not to mention frustrating. He was a man--a man with abundant sexual desires. To suffer through half a year of abstinence... it was torture. Pure torture. Point blank, no debate about it. Ichigo seemed to have a sensor... a sensor that was ridiculously attuned to sexual tension. Every single time Grimmjow got into the mood, either something interrupted them, or Ichigo would back off and away. Terribly unsatisfying.

Their tongues twisted and tangled together, Ichigo fervently battling for dominance. He had realized that Grimmjow had blatantly pushed aside that debate for who-tops-who. Needless to say, he was not the least bit pleased. He was going to _win_ the battle for topping position, damn it.

His blue haired lover let out a chuckle during the kiss, probably figuring out his train of thought. He grew irritated, pushing the opposites wet appendage out of his mouth and moved the fight into his partner's mouth. Grimmjow finally grew tired of the fight and decided to assert some of his dominance. The corners of his lips quirked into a smirk when Ichigo let out a (highly masculine, of course) squeak as he sucked on his tongue. Ichigo pulled away, his arms growing a bit tired from holding his weight up during such an intense kiss. He stared down at his lover, pleasantly flushed and desperately pulling air back into his lungs. Grimmjow adopted a (_highly_ fake) look of innocence onto his face for a moment before the smirk won out. He had been about to say something before Ichigo dove back down, seeming like he was going to start another rough kiss.

Grimmjow would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. Instead of the mouth-to-mouth kiss he had been expecting, his lover had placed a simple, chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. There was a short pause before he continued, slowly pressing kisses down to the side of his jaw before he traced it up to the man's upper jaw, right below the ear lobe. While the kisses had been enough to make his skin (that already had goosebumps from the cold) tingle pleasantly, he clenched his teeth, withholding the groan that threatened to spill from his lips when Ichigo flicked his tongue out at the skin behind his ear.

With the treatment he was receiving, Grimmjow was ready to get things on the road. He was already half hard with anticipation. He had been about to take control of things, but sadly, had to stop. Ichigo, ever the instinctual one, seemed to notice his new-found determination and pulled away with a smirk. He slid his knee into the crotch of his older lover and pressed down, locking his brown eyes onto blue. "Nope." He leaned forward, tracing his tongue along Grimmjow's lower lip.

"This is _my_ gift to you," He murmured against tanned skin, kissing again at the corner of his mouth. His lover froze, arms laying limp at his side as Ichigo trailed down his neck. Kisses were pressed against his skin, slowly moving down inch by inch. There was a pause before a tongue was swiped against the hollow of his neck, a surprised groan spilling out of his mouth. Deciding to help out, Grimmjow began unbuttoning his shirt, relishing in the tingling sensation as Ichigo started attacking newly exposed skin, kissing each and every spot available. Before long, the older man's shirt was on the floor, the younger still unwilling to give up his dominant position from atop his lover.

Grimmjow grinned up at his lover. This was going to be interesting....

**

* * *

**

The blue haired man reached over to the table to grab a few tissues and do a half-ass job of cleaning them up. Tossing the dirty tissues into the nearby trashcan, he allowed himself to collapse next to Ichigo, draping a heavy arm across the younger's midsection. The next few moments were spent in a comfortable silence.

Ichigo finally shifted, the awkward feeling of semen running down his thigh making him restless. He propped himself up a bit and glanced around, finding that the sight of the room was an utter mess. Their clothes were strewn in multiple places around the bed and now that he was out of the heat of the moment, he was starting to feel just how cold the room was. Granted, it was warmer than when they had first gotten home, but it was still chilly. He shoved his legs under the bedsheets with little care, not bothering with straightening the fabric out so that it covered all of his skin. Grimmjow stirred, sitting up and rubbing at his head. He stared at Ichigo for a moment before he frowned. "Hey..." he said, his voice thoughtful. "Weren't we going to have dinner?"

Hazel eyes blinked before Ichigo groaned. "Oh right... Sheesh. Even after _that_ you're hungry.." He flushed ever so slightly, just waiting for Grimmjow to start teasing him. When none of it came, he sighed and shook his head, straightening up a bit to get out of bed. What he didn't expect, however, was the sharp pain that shot up his spine from the movement. He toppled over with a yelp, going headfirst over the side of the bed. His face met the carpet while his lower half was still on the bed. His ass was in the air, a perfect view for his boyfriend--considering that he was, quite literally, butt-_naked_. All in all...

Absolutely _mortifying_.

Grimmjow, on the other hand, would easily admit one thing. He was a fucking pervert. Point blank. This point was easily proved as he watched Ichigo wave his ass back and forth, trying desperately to right himself. The blue haired man grinned and asked, "Wanna have another go at it?" Ichigo finally managed to right himself, his face flushed in embarrassment. Looking down, he groaned, the heat in his cheeks slowly receding. He had sadly managed to tangle himself further in the bed sheets during the struggle.

"Are you gonna be on bottom?"

"Hell no," Grimmjow answered back haughtily, crossing his arms as Ichigo struggled to untangle his limbs from the sheets. "Hmmm..." Ichigo paused thoughtfully, smirking in victory as the sheets were finally kicked away from him. He turned a face of pure innocence on his lover before it melted into a winning smirk.

"Then I do believe you just answered your own question."

Grimmjow sat back against the headboard, frowning in what Ichigo identified to be his 'sulking expression'. He rolled his eyes, making an attempt to make it out of the bed once more. He paused when a hand locked around his wrist. He turned back around to see Grimmjow shake his head before he tugged on Ichigo's wrist. "It's fine," he said. "I'm not that hungry. Besides. I don't feel like getting up. When I feel like getting up, I'll kick your ass outta bed to make me food." He grinned at the redhead's scowl. _Well, aren't you a saint?_

Ichigo rolled his eyes and sat back, sinking into the mattress. His eyes slipping shut, he let out a thoughtful noise before saying, "This is nice." A smile spread across his lips. Grimmjow looked over at him with a curious expression. "What is?"

"This," he answered back, waving his arms about him with his eyes still closed. "Like I said before--I'm not really a people person. I'm more of a loner, so I tended to have little company. I've _always_ been alone in a metaphorical sense, persevering and pushing forward--struggling to survive." He opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"In this world you must **endure and** **survive**."

Grimmjow sat up and fixed him with a funny look. "Why must you make it sound so fucking difficult to live? Just live the way you want to and never look back." He pulled Ichigo close to him and smiled into the orange locks. "Besides, even if you must persevere, you've got me right there next to ya, right? To save your ass..." He added, almost as if he were clarifying.

Ichigo snorted quietly, holding back the urge to call him on the cheesy line. But it was fine. As long as it was Grimmjow using it. "Yeah," he answered earnestly. He wasn't really alone. He never really had been. But now he had someone he was close to, someone whom he could entrust everything to--someone who could help him past all of the terrible things that happened during an average life.

Someone to enjoy life with.

It was nothing special. Just a simple day at home with the two of them enjoying each other's presence--enjoying their _existence_.

**-Chapter/Story End-**

A/N: Thanks for all the support, you guys. You have been the most amazing readers ever. I hope to hear from you in my future works! (And if you plan on writing any good Grimmichi fics, let me know about it--I really enjoy reading other people's works.)

Review?


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